


AC/DC One Shots

by Paperbackwriter22



Category: AC/DC (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paperbackwriter22/pseuds/Paperbackwriter22
Summary: Some once upon a times with AC/DC.





	1. Cold

The small figure lay still as a gentle hand raked her hair. Her breaths were slow and deep. Her face was buried in her protector's neck and her hands lay limp on his chest. A single foot of his stood on the ground rocking the low hammock back and forth.

Angus was careful not to awaken the sleeping girl as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her breath tickled his neck in waves and he tightened his arms around her to keep him from laughing. Her sweater was big; almost too big for her and the sleeves covered her hands halfway. But no matter how warm it kept her, she still came back to him. He'd warm her up.

It was an innocent encounter, they all were. Anything beyond this situation made her uncomfortable. He didn't know it at first until he went too far. He'd never seen such a strong assertive girl so scared. And it scared him. The memory pained him and he quickly loosened his grip on the sleeping girl. He almost woke her up.

 

Hannah came up to him that afternoon. "Enjoying the cold are we?" He swung the hammock back and forth.

"Yep. Nothin' like a good breeze to keep you awake."

"More like a blizzard," she mumbled. He chuckled at her annoyed face.

"What's the matter?" he asked. She wrapped her arms around herself and kicked the ground. "Cold?"

"A smidge."

"You should go inside then. No use coming outside if the warmth is inside. Is there?"

"Why do you think I came outside then?" He raised an eyebrow at her and sat up. She sighed and sat next to him. "The heater's broken."

"Do I look like an electrician?" he smiled.

"That's not what I meant," she smiled back. "It's just, it's cold indoors and out and the only source of heat is swinging on a silly hammock."

"Wait, wait. You mean-" She gave him a shy look and nodded her head. "It's not too much? 'Cause I won't if it is."

"No, it's fine. Just don't get all fresh with me, that's crossing the line." He shook his head and held his arms out.

"Come here then." Hannah scooted back until she sat comfortably on his lap and his arms around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and he smiled to himself. "Surprised you like being held."

"It's your fault for being so freaking warm," she smiled yawning.

"That's a yawn I hear."

"No it isn't."

"Yeah." She didn't answer. She was already fast asleep.

 

Angus lay back in the hammock back to his original position with one correction. He stuck his foot out to rock the hammock to keep her asleep. Her legs curled up so she lay like a cat on his chest. As small as he was himself he always had room for her. He chuckled as her nose nuzzled into his neck. He put a hand to her hair and kept it out of her face.

"Maybe it's not me who's so warm, maybe it's you who's always so cold," he teased in a whisper after a long while. "Sweet dreams."


	2. Strawberries

The stool creaked back and forth as the young boy grasped the countertop, peeking over. His fingertips turned white and his neck craned to see the activity going on above. Water splashed in his eye and he paused to wipe it away. There in the sink was his baby brother, getting his warm evening bath. Two pink hands gathered the soapy water and threw it out to see what it would do. Nothing too exciting, only made the older boy annoyed. Maybe if he tried again... A woman's hand poured water over his bald head.

"Don't do that Angus, let's keep the water inside the sink," corrected his mother. She smiled when she received a giggle from her child. The older boy stood clear on the tips of his toes to watch his mother. She gently scrubbed him with the amber soap he'd seen so many times before. When there was enough bubbles to wash three of him, she'd rinse him off. More water splashed in his eye and into his nose. "Oops, sorry Malcolm."

"Mummy, what-what that?" the two year old pointed while the other hand wiped his eye.

"Careful Malcolm, don't stand on the stool like that, always hold on to something." Malcolm placed his hands on the countertop. "Now what do you need?"

"What that?"

"What's this?" She pointed at Angus. Malcolm shook his head and pointed at the amber liquid. "Mally, you know what this is. This is Angus' baby soap. I used it on all you kids."

"Baby toap?"

"Yeah. I used it on you all the time. Now it's Angus' turn."

"Angoose."

"Angus Malcolm, Angus. Want to say hi?" His mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and lifted Malcolm up. The view was much better from his mother's arms and he could see everything she saw. Tiny bubbles floating above Angus' head and he watched them with delight. Pudgy fingers reaching out for the yellow duck and bringing it to a curious mouth. Water dripping off the walls and kitchen cabinets from Angus' solid throwing arm.

Malcolm rubbed his eye again even though the next tidal wave missed him. It was ten minutes past his bedtime but his mother let him stay up to watch her bathe the baby. He watched the baby sit in the sink, kicking the silver plastic rim. That used to be his bath. He may not have remembered using it, but he knew he was moved to a new location once that baby came along.

Oh sure, those boys got along. As well as a couple of goldfish. They were usually doing their own thing; Malcolm with his toys and Angus getting (another) new diaper. When they were together it meant no one else was home to watch either of them so their mother had her hands full. Those hours were full of squeals and gurgles, poking and prodding, and lots of sticky fingers.

And then there were moments like these when the house was real quiet and Angus had yet to take his bath. Malcolm was allowed one extra hour to stay up and watch, then it was time for bed. The nights never stayed quiet though, as Angus would end up crying eventually for food or some extra attention.

Malcolm tried that once. He noticed Angus crying every hour one night and their mother or father would come in their room and snuggle him up. After practicing a few times he got a good cry going and even worked up a few tears. But when his mother came in she just gave him a bottle to hold by himself. No pats, no cuddles. He was big enough to hold his own bottle they said. So much for living the easy life.

Two big blue eyes blinked up at him sparkling with mirth. Angus had successfully thrown his rubber duck at his brother, hitting him right on the top of his head. Malcolm was all ready to throw something heavier at him but he was placed on the floor too soon. "Get yourself ready for bed Malcolm, I'll be up in a moment to tuck you in."

"One more hour," the boy requested. His mother sighed and looked at the wall clock. He still had forty five minutes but Malcolm saw it as a full hour. And being the toddler he was, he became a master at negotiation.

"When the big hand reaches the seven, it's time for bed." The boy scampered up the stairs and headed for his toy chest. He pulled out a train and spun it twice before setting it aside. He found his yo-yo which had broken last month. That was also set aside. His tower of building blocks was already complete, so he knocked it over. These toys had gotten boring, he was ready for something new. Leaving his room in a messy state, he explored the bathroom he and all his siblings shared.

Malcolm was never allowed in here by himself. His mother bathed him in here and helped him go to the bathroom much to his insistence of doing it himself. But since she was busy with the new baby, she wouldn't mind if he just took a peek.

The light flickered on above and all the shadows vanished behind real objects. The first thing the boy set his mind on was the ivory bathtub. Bottles of all different colors lay assorted on the edge. He picked each one up delicately and examined them. Of course he couldn't read the labels just yet, but he knew they were used for washing. The blue one for his head and the clear one for his skin.

A certain green bottle in the corner caught his attention. It was smooth and round, with a picture of a strawberry. As far as Malcolm was concerned, strawberries were red not green, so it peaked his interest as to why they would be kept in a green bottle. He picked it up and rubbed his fore finger on the label. The top was a pump and Malcolm's fist was strong enough to push it down.

He winced as a wet spray attacked his face and stung his nose. It smelled just like strawberries. He remembered the scent from a cake his mother had made the month before for a relative. It was pink with a white trim. Malcolm reached a hand into the batter only for the bowl to be taken away and placed on a high shelf. "Don't eat raw cake Malcolm, you'll get worms."

Malcolm didn't know what worms had to do with cake, only that he didn't get a free taste. Once the stinging in his nose had stopped, he clenched the bottle tightly in his hands and toddled downstairs.

Peering around the corner, in fear of his plan getting cut short, he saw his mother washing the sink with Angus on the kitchen tile, not so much as a diaper on. Happy as ever to be free. Malcolm inched his way over holding the bottle ever so tightly. He dropped it once shaking the contents up, but his mother didn't hear it. Placing the bottle in front of his brother, he aimed the spout in his direction. Angus only looked at it.

Malcolm sped the process up by taking the baby's hands and placing them on the pump. A silvery thread of drool dangled from Angus' mouth and pooled all over the bottle covering it in a thick sheet. It was taken away from him and two slightly stronger hands pressed down the pump. A spray just as before surrounded Angus' face. It smelled like strawberries. Malcolm got sprayed too by a snotty sneeze. That did not smell like strawberries.

His hand once again rubbed his face clear of any water and whatever else. The phone rang making his scalp jump and he rushed to the stairs with the slimy bottle. The baby started crying and Malcolm hid in the bathroom. Hiding the bottle back where he found it he ran into his room and shut the door.

 

"I'm coming Angus," the woman said wrapping a towel around her crying infant. "I know, the phone ringing is a scary thing."

"Mum, there's a field trip tomorrow at school and I was wondering-"

"Oh Margaret sweetie, can you take Angus up to his room? I've got to get the phone." The baby was placed in the young girl's arms before she could protest.

"What about my field trip?"

"I'll sign it sweetie. Hello?" Her mother picked up the landline and leaned against the wall. Angus cried into his older sister's shoulder and she patted his back.

"Come on Angie, let's go see your brother," Margaret cooed. She carried him upstairs leaving her mother to talk with their father about why he was coming home late again.

Three knocks on Malcolm's door before opening it to the huge mess of toys. Malcolm himself was hiding under Angus' crib. "Here we are Angus. Let's get you ready for bed, huh? Now where's-" Margaret looked down and saw her little brother squeezed under the piece of furniture. "Malcolm, what are you doing?"

"Dunno..." the little boy droned. His little fingers picked at the carpet as an excuse not to look at his sister. It proved difficult when an arm reached under to pull him out. Resisting would only lead to a konk on the head so he complied.

"Mally, what were you doing under there?"

"Playing." Angus' cries drowned out his answer and Margaret held her hand around her ear.

"What?"

"Playing," Malcolm stated louder. He wrung his hands together. Margaret took one hand in hers and led him to his dresser.

"Pick out your pajamas, then clean this room before you get in bed. Okay beansprout?"

"Kay."

 

Angus snored into his older sister's shoulder. Both boys were snug in their pajamas in Malcolm's bed in the clean room. Malcolm sat beside Margaret watching her rock the baby. His hand reached out and gently pressed the pink nose, then went down to his lips. His skin was soft. Had his ever been that soft? He'd ask his mother tomorrow, that is, if he didn't forget overnight.

Margaret rubbed the sleeping baby's head then brushed Malcolm's hair. His eyes fluttered from halfway open to closed every few seconds. Within minutes, he was asleep. Margaret leaned down to kiss him, and sniffed. She sniffed Angus too just to be sure. She recognized that smell as her special perfume her friend gave her at a sleepover.

"Why do you two smell like strawberries?" she whispered. There was no answer.


	3. Stuck

His foot brushed against the shag carpet as the elevator door closed. His finger landed on the black button for the fourteenth floor. The lift shook and creaked at the start but soon enough carried him up the cable.

Angus glanced down at his watch and stamped his heels to the floor. One two...one two... Bon was up on the fourteenth floor no doubt sleeping off a hangover. The show was in less than three hours and Malcolm did not take kindly to screw ups.

None of them did. But Angus' brother had a nefarious reputation when dealing with lollygaggers. Angus got his first scolding session when he was eighteen and they first started the band.

He shuddered at the memory. One more time with one more girl was one minute too late. He showed up to the studio, breathless and carelessly put together. Angus insisted he had slept in (which wasn't uncommon for the schoolboy) but the lipstick mark on his collar told a different story.

One smack to the head was all it took.

Malcolm's strict authority must have leaked off his palm and into Angus' brain because now they were both just as rough as the other. Their band was one of profesional standard and if you couldn't meet the need, you couldn't do the deed. No ifs ands or buts about it.

The hands on his watch were spinning way too quickly for Angus' comfort as he bit his lip. Blood pooled on the surface and he licked it away. His time was running out to collect Bon from his room and (literally) carry his ass out. Finally the lift dinged, then let the boy off.

His shoes pounded down the hall sending waves through his head. All the doors looked the same from one end to the other. It was then he realized Bon never actually specified what room he was staying in. Angus mentally smacked himself for not checking with anyone first. He wasn't about to go knocking every door down he came across, the impression this band made in this building was bad enough. The young man mentally smacked their drummer for putting his foot through the drywall.

Standing in the middle of the long rug staring at the doors made him feel like an idiot. He looked like a lost puppy out there, panting with eyes darting around. It would have been worse if Bon himself hadn't walked out of one of the rooms Number 133! and came toward him.

Neither one said a word in the greeting, and the singer simply continued on his way to the elevator. Angus followed, silently observing.

His hair was washed and blow dried to the extent where it looked professional. His outfit, albeit less professional, was planned and put together. No sign of sleep crossed his eyes nor drinking on his lips. Maybe he hadn't been getting wasted again...

Even his walking was intended. His feet swept the floor in swift motions like he knew he was going to be late. Angus thought if he knew, no matter what he did the night before, that he was gonna be late, that he would just say 'fuck it' and plan ahead. How many people can do that?

Both men stood silently in the elevator waiting for the doors to close. It gave an unnecessary feeling of anticipation; as soon as it happened, it was over. Nothing exciting. Not like waiting for a concert to start, not at all.

The extra time allowed Angus to daydream about the upcoming evening and the sweaty nights ahead. Every concert followed the same routine. They'd play a show using only half their energy, then spend the rest of it backstage. Greet fans who came with albums to sign and the occasional tee shirt. Eventually some girls would come along and they'd finish the night off with them. It was a difficult schedule to keep up with as these present moments showed, but it was the rock lifestyle. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll wasn't just some cartoon catchphrase.

His attention was pulled a sharp left when Bon hit the button for the eighth floor instead of the lobby. "What are you doin'?" he asked bluntly.

"There's a fella on the seventh floor that hangs out in the corner," Bon responded without turning around.

"Yeah?"

"He met me yesterday and said I needed his stuff so I'm goin' over."

"His stuff?" Angus asked staring down the back of his head.

"Yeah."

"His dope or his dick?"

"Hilarious, Ang."

"I'm serious, you gotta know what 'the stuff' is. I tell ya', I won't be there for the second one."

"Good thing it's not then, ain't it?" Bon inhaled the air as if it were smoke and puffed it back out. Even in his thought out rush he forgot to grab his Camel Lights left on the broken nightstand. With the guitarist's griping behind him, he was sure gonna miss 'em.

"What is it then?"

"Hm?"

"What's this fella tryin' to sell ya'?" Bon let out a chuckle and turned a ninety.

"He ain't sellin' me anything. It's some cheap knockoff stuff, I wouldn't buy anything off of him."

"You're goin' to a strange man for cheap shit that you know is cheap shit, and you're okay with it?"

"It's not just cheap shit, it's free shit," Bon corrected with a smile. "Besides, he ain't strange anymore." Angus snorted and shook his head.

"If he's on the seventh floor, why ain't you stoppin' on the seventh?"

"Isn't that what I done?"

"You hit the eight."

"Damn," Bon muttered observing his work. He turned back to the shorter man with a carefree look. "Guess we'll just take the stairs then, eh?"

"I didn't run up here for ya' to let you waste more time getting high, your ass is comin' with me."

"It's a quick stop mate, it'll be over before you know it."

"Malcolm will split my skull and yours too if we ain't there on time," Angus spat at him getting his point across. "It's my job to drag you over there in the first place."

"Fine job you're doin'."

"We're late enough as it is 'cause of you and when Mal finds out what you're doin'-"

"Jesus Ang, will you shut up? You're soundin' like a two year old." Angus opened his mouth but Bon left him hanging. "What, you gonna tell on me? And what's Mal gonna do? We got a gig tonight, not much he can tell me over the music." Angus closed his mouth and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

"You don't give a shit."

"Sure I do, if I didn't, I wouldn't be here right now lookin' like this." Bon thumbed at himself. "We're not gonna be late, I know that. You can run to your brother and tell 'im I said that."

"I can't, I'm stuck here with you."

"And I with you. Now stop complainin', we're almost th-" A strong thud cut him off along with the lights flickering out. A cold draft filled the room with uninvited misadventure. The darkness screamed with pure bad luck. Both men stood still and silent as the realization hit.

"Fuck," Angus whispered.

"You think it's temporary?"

"Not at all, it's gonna take hours to get movin' again." Bon slowly paced the area rubbing the back of his neck. "If you hadn't been late as usual-"

"Stop complainin', alright? Jus' got a shitty elevator tha's all. Now help me get this fuckin' door open."

 

Thirty minutes. Thirty useless minutes prying that door open to no avail. Bon rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, both stained white and sighed. "Fuckin' hell," he breathed.

"Fuckin' hell is right," Angus echoed. He approached the singer with an air of annoyance. His fingers had also paled, which should have happened by guitar instead.

Bon brushed his hair aside getting ready for another verbal attack. Being the piglet that Angus was, he wasn't too worried about what he would do, just what he would say. That kid could have the nastiest temper sometimes.

"Ang, I haven't the slightest interest in hearing you gripe your arse off at me for God knows how long," Bon huffed. The younger man rocked back on his heels, listening intently. "This ain't my fault, this ain't your fault, only this goddamn hotel's fault alright? Take it up with them."

"Don't plan to. Gotta save my energy." Bon couldn't help letting out a chuckle.

"That blonde comin' back again?" he inquired. "Weren't you a little old for her?"

"Aren't you a little too old for this band? We let you in." Angus leaned against the wall opposite the singer. "Age is just a number in the bedroom, Bonnie boy."

"You wouldn't think that way had she been a minor." The smile on Bon's face disappeared shortly after Angus'. His eyes were glued to the carpet, desperate for anything else to look at. Bon knew this man better than anyone, besides his brother, and recognized his apprehension to reply as a sign of guilt. His hands found his pockets and his left foot crossed the right. "Ang... don't tell me."

"Didn't say nothin'." The singer scoffed. Unbelievable. No, remarkable. Angus was never one to color outside the lines like that. He strayed the straight and narrow path before but...

"You're kiddin'." Angus shrugged. "Wait till she tells her parents, Ang! Snappin' at me, over what? One little dose? You however, appear to have done the whole fuckin' line!"

"Hell with you mate, it was one night! She was okay with it, why not? Didn't mean much anyway..." His voice dropped off to where Bon had to lean closer. His brow furrowed.

"She no good?"

"Nah, she-was gone when I woke up. Left a note on the nightstand." A sneakered foot toed the carpet. "Spelled my name wrong." Angus frowned as Bon snorted into his arm. "It ain't funny, mate!"

"Yes it is. Look, I shouldn't have laughed. But I'll be damned if that ain't funny." The guitarist shook his head.

"You're hopeless."

"And you're an idiot."

"Wanker."

"Buggy knocker. Callin' names never did no good." Bon grinned in triumph at Angus' pout. "Does Mal know about this?"

"I don't need his permission."

"No, but you know how he is about that stuff. He's been on about my dosage, I should know."

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?" Bon frowned. Something wasn't right here.

"And the trip to the seventh floor is front page news? Just 'cause he's your brother doesn't mean you get away clean."

"So...what?" Bon pointed at him.

"We don't say nothin' to him. Deal?" Angus mulled it over.

"And if you break that deal?"

"Then you can stick a flagpole up my ass, okay? Now is it a deal or what?" Angus reluctantly shook the outstretched hand. A chuckle escaped him.

"Quick to name the punishment, weren't you?"

"I only said that 'cause I get to do the same to you if you blab." Both men couldn't help the smiles creeping up.

"Or that girl's parents."

"If that were me," Bon stated. "I'd be scared shitless."

"Better run for my life then." An unidentified amount of time passed in silence. Attempting to open the doors again was looking tempting. "Come on then, let's try again eh?"

"You think you can open 'em now?" Bon questioned.

"Not by myself..." The guitarist looked over his shoulder.

"Who says I'm helpin' you?" Angus frowned.

"'Cause you're stuck in here just as much as I am."

"And?" the singer grinned.

"So get your ass up an' help me."

"We tried that Ang, didn't work so well."

"Sittin' here doesn't work either!" The older man leaned back against the wall, sliding down till he reached carpet, eyes never leaving the younger's. If there was one thing Bon was excelled in without practice, it was pissing his mates off. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Jus' havin' a break, son. You should get yourself one of those."

"We're stuck in a goddamn elevator an' you don't fuckin' care!"

"Who's hopeless now, Ang?"

"Who's the idiot?!"

"Shut it!" Bon yelled causing Angus to step back. The singer regained his composure before continuing. "I do care, this is a shitty circumstance and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But one more pull on that door's gonna do jack shit an' you know it. Now I suggest you yank the knot outta your panties and stop wastin' your time on that goddamn door!"

Angus followed Bon's actions and both men were seated on the floor. The room was still dark, and it was difficult to make out the other's expression. Frustration, murder, they all looked the same. A smell from the carpet filled their nostrils and they sighed. Whether or not Mal found out about their misdoings, if they didn't show up in the preferred time, he'd mount them over his fireplace.

"This bites," Angus mumbled, coincidentally biting his lip. Bon sighed again.

"No doubt. We're gonna get out of here."

"What makes you so sure?"

"They ain't gonna leave the elevator broken forever. You an' I both know that."

"Doesn't mean we'll get out in time for the show!"

"How 'bout a promise Ang? Would a promise untie that knot?" Bon inquired. Angus crossed his arms. If he knew what was good for him, he'd shut his mouth.

"How 'bout a kept promise?" The singer gave him a pseudo grin.

"Can't do that." Another silence surrounded the boys. It was thick. Like the pitch that filled the room, growing with every minute. The lack of sight was made up for in smell, the coffee and suspicious white stains on the floor worsening. The later it got, the colder it got as well. If worst came to the worst, the two would have to put aside their petty arguments and keep each other warm. Angus stole a glance at Bon and decided he'd rather just rip those damn doors open himself. He shivered, then crossed his arms with a proud demeanor.

"I do not have panties," he mumbled. The singer rolled his head to look at his friend who was slowly turning into his annoying companion.

"I beg to differ, mate."

"Like you've ever seen them!" Angus retorted.

"Every show, little man. Every show." Angus sat back in a huff. He would not let that singer get under his skin. As right as he was, he still forgot one tiny piece of info. His lack of feminine underwear.

"Uh...nobody's in here right?" Both men exchanged glances.

"Who was that?" Angus whispered. Bon shrugged. The guitarist sighed and stood up. He strained to see through the thick pitch. Nothing on the walls implied any way of communication. Until his eyes landed on a speaker box. No bigger than a matchbox, it hung tucked away in the corner of the ceiling. A red light flashed on the button meaning someone was on the other end.

"If there's no one in here, we're callin' for help tomorrow so you'd better speak up." The voice was grainy and the static disguised the tone.

"Bon, someone's up here." Bon raised his head to see the red light.

"Go answer 'im, he's gonna leave us til' tomorrow." Angus stood on his toes and pathetically waved his outstretched hand. His fingertips barely grazed the base of the speaker. The singer shook his head as he watched him. Angus could never reach a cat stuck in a tree. He was the cat stuck in a tree. "You got it yet?" Bon felt the need to check on him once he started jumping for it.

"Damn it!" Angus swore under his breath. Bon stood up and cracked his knuckles.

"Let the professional show you how it's done." The taller man stood under the speaker box and reached it with ease. Angus frowned. No one in the band had been blessed with great height but Angus seemed to have been cursed. Not only with the trouble of climbing every solid surface, but he was also subject to teasing. Mainly from the band. Normally he just ignored it but one day his own brother went too far. Malcolm wasn't one to talk being the pixie he was himself.

"Oi mate, ya' still there?" Bon called into the mic. Twenty seconds of static was the reply.

"Oh...there's someone still there, Joe...yeah he just talked...how should I know?...We can't just leave him there!"

"Hey mate? Your finger's on the switch there." More static.

"Oh! Oh. Uh, you heard all that?" Bon gave Angus a face.

"Unfortunately." Static sounded a third time along with some shuffling around.

"Sorry about that, we were just about to call it quits. Didn't think anyone rode this cable."

"'T's no trouble at all, mate," Bon feigned assurance. Angus watched from below leaning against the wall.

"Actually we were hoping you wouldn't answer so we could go home ya' know," the voice chuckled. Bon ran a hand through his hair.

"You don't say." His eyes landed on Angus who mouthed something Bon couldn't understand.

"Yeah you know, gotta see the wife before she gets mad. Tuck the kids in, all that jazz."

"Yep."

"Feed the fish..."

"I'm sure."

"It's not every day you get a call from a guy in an elevator."

"Oh really?" Angus laughed at Bon's annoyed sarcasm.

"Yeah. Kind of disappointed actually. Monday night football you know..." This man had no trouble expressing his thoughts. Well, neither did Bon.

"Listen mate, I'm sorry to cripple ya' so bad but my friend and I ain't havin' no blast in here either."

"There's more of you?" Bon glanced at the small bodied man beside him. He wouldn't really say there was 'more'.

"Uh, sure. He counts."

"Oh shit, Joe he's got a friend...no he just told me...just hang up the phone?" the voice laughed. "Run away for the week?"

"We can bloody fuckin' hear you mate, now just fuckin' help us." Bon raised his voice that even surprised himself.

"Hey man, you got somewhere to be?"

"Actually I do. We both do. Now we need to get out of here and you're the only bloody help we got."

"Alright, alright. Tell me your names." The men exchanged glances.

"Bon Scott and Angus Young." The singer braced himself for the response.

"You're pullin' my leg."

"'Fraid not."

"You're serious? Holy shit! Joe! Guess who's on the line?" The rest of the conversation was inaudible. Joe's co-worker must have finally grew brains enough to take his finger off the button.

"How do you think it's goin'?" Angus asked. Bon let out an exasperated laugh.

"His day just got better while ours just gets covered in shit." Angus smiled to himself. As boring as it was sitting there, he didn't want to have to stand around talking to this guy. He was suddenly glad that he was too short to reach the button.

The static scared the crap out of them. Bon leaned forward to hear the news. "Alright Joe and I have made a deal."

"You have, have you?"

"Yes. It involves you and your friend."

"Can't wait to hear it."

"So, as much as it pains us to stay here late and wait for someone to come fix the elevator, we'll do it anyway... I know Joe, we're so nice." Bon rolled his eyes. "We'll do it on one condition."

"And that is?"

"We get to come to the show tonight." A pause. "With backstage passes." The two men sighed. They were being held hostage by two men in a dinky elevator. And one of them was getting on their last nerve.

"Backstage passes huh?" Bon muttered.

"That's the deal."

"No," Angus whispered. "No, he can get us help without a threat."

"Settle down," Bon replied. He pressed the button. "Listen, mate. We'd love to, but we just can't swing it right now. It's extremely last minute, it's too late in the evening, and if we don't get out of here there ain't even gonna be a show."

"Hey, if we don't get to see it, no one gets to see it."

"That's a dirty mindset you have, you know that?"

"Oh please. I know for a fact that if Joe and I were women you'd hand it over. No questions asked."

"If you were women, you would have been smart enough to get tickets a long time ago."

"Yeah. We'd be at the show and you'd be stuck here with no one. How about that?" Bon clenched his hand and pushed it against the wall. They were at a stalemate. There wasn't much light at the end of this tunnel.

"You'd be pretty disappointed then to know we weren't comin'," Angus piped up. "Jus' let us out of here already."

"My offer is still on the table...take it or leave it."

"Fuckin' hell," Bon mumbled, clenching his hand all the tighter. "Bloody fuckin' shit stained..." The singer let out a blue streak. Time was running out and they were being held at the edge. Joe and What's-his-ass should have simply done their job and dialed for help. Maybe they shouldn't have given their real names. But they were normal people and deserved the same help as any. You'd think two blokes like this would kill for this chance. They just happened to get stuck with these two instead.

Bon glanced at a very pissed off Angus. He gave up trying to talk him out of it and decline their offer. He must have looked at his watch and known it wasn't worth the effort. The fight in him was replaced by a stone cold glare. Malcolm was gonna kill them anyway, might as well help a fellow out before they died.

Bon felt pathetic. Stooping down like this for someone else simply because they were unlucky enough to get a shitty elevator. This was not either man's day. He felt walked on. This was not how he was raised, not how he brought himself up, and certainly not how he was gonna die. But one look at his own watch sent him knuckling the button.

"Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"For real?"

"Yes!"

"No tricks?" This man really knew how to rub in a victory.

"Christ mate, yes."

"Great. Thank you for your participation, it's much appreciated. Don't worry guys, help is on the way."

"Yeah, thanks." Bon stepped away from the speaker box and sat on the floor. The room was completely black by now. The concert hadn't started but it would way too soon. If only they hadn't been so late.

The man shifted a bit as he realized all of this was partially his fault. Not so much the short cut to Seventh Heaven, but being late in the first place. He had teased Angus about it but the little man was only trying to hurry his ass up and get the damn show on the road. Bon gave a half smile. Just like his brother. His rough, edgy, son of a gun brother. You couldn't blame a guy for wanting a good show for his band.

Angus was picking at his nails when he felt the other man's stare. "What do you want Bon?" he asked without looking up.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I had a hunch." Mirth returned to the men. "What do you need?"

"Jus' thought I should apologize."

"For...?" Angus really knows how to push a man's buttons.

"For gettin' us locked in here. I was late and that didn't help." Bon suddenly felt a bad taste in his mouth. Whether he admitted it or not, it felt weird to apologize to him. It meant he made a mistake when he should have been perfect. Even as the singer of a rock and roll band, he was famous and expected to be perfect. Angus over there knew just how far from perfect he really was. But the guitarist was his friend. Not some opportunistic shark like the two men holding them prisoner. He wouldn't hold him to it longer than necessary.

"And you do understand that I was being a friend and just gettin' you ready right?" Bon chuckled.

"Yes."

"Good. So...no more stuff?"

"Not a chance. Soon as we're out, we're gettin' on with it." Angus fiddled with his fingers.

"What are we doin' with our company upstairs?"

"Ah, we'll figure somethin'."

 

"Now I believe you men owe us something." Help arrived twenty minutes later and retrieved the two from the elevator. The light was more than welcome to blind them silly and the sour smell dissipated quickly. Two men stood across from them, both sleepy-eyed and expectant. Joe and his co-worker named Tom were waiting for their benefits of the deal.

"Shut yer mouth an' come on," Bon said as he and Angus hurried out of the lobby.

 

The show was performed without any problems. Still five minutes left before it started and they got ready in record time. Malcolm tried to be upset with them but he had a guitar to pluck first. He complied; there'd be more time to yell at them later.

Eventually the band met up backstage. Back with their regular routine right on schedule. Not that the two were complaining as a few female fans came up for a chat. Tom and Joe made their way in, admiring the place as if they paid to see it.

Malcolm noticed Bon and Angus' apparent disgust as they entered. "Oi lads, you know them?"

"Somewhat," Angus answered. Bon observed the two. That doormat feeling was still clinging to his spirit. They saw the show, they came backstage, nothing more to see. The singer wasn't gonna let them have the upper hand anymore.

He caught the attention of a passing security. After a few exchanged whispers and a mutual nod of understanding, they parted ways. Bon rejoined his group where they had a ball telling stories to anyone willing to listen. While Cliff was going on about his showbiz mates, a slight commotion broke out among the east wall. Two men had failed to present a solid proof of identity and as a result of lacking cooperation, they were roughly escorted out. Malcolm shook his head. "Look at that. Hey mates, your friends are in a doozy."

"Oh yeah," Bon commented nonchalantly. He and Angus shared a mischievous grin. Blackmailing had its punishments in the band and this situation was no exception.

"Perfect night to assist in retribution, wouldn't you say Bon?" Angus asked mimicking a posh style. Bon responded the same.

"Couldn't agree more."


	4. Cats 'n' Casinos Part One

Cats

He lay his bag on the shag carpet as he worked the key to his door. He'd been to this hotel in the past and knew just how finicky everything was. Didn't bother him; he was in no hurry. Being the bassist for AC/DC, one might think otherwise.

Stepping into his room, Cliff tossed his bag to the side with the notion of, 'I'll pick it up later.' The trip from Carson City was rough; a real highway to hell as Bon would call it. The heat was pressurized, the traffic was frustrating, and the two boyish founders of the band complaining only made matters worse. A single second to sit down was all he could ask for, even if it meant being a bit messy.

The man took a good look around the room once he was settled on the couch. Try hard works of art covered the walls, each of them portraying the same message: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. A nice crack ran through the front door like a canyon that Paul McCartney himself couldn't fill, and the ceiling fan above him swung loosely. The sweat on his arms tempted him to turn it on, but the volume of the squeaking was enough to leave it alone.

The couch he was sitting on was torn and stained, springs announcing their visability by sight or unfortunate seating. Cliff didn't seem to care as he reclined the length of it, pure exhaustion the cover of his apathy. Rehearsal was in a few hours, the man could stand a good chunk of it sleeping.

Rehearsal wasn't the highlight of anybody's day. Though it paved the concrete path for the real show later, which couldn't be met with success if rehearsal was skipped. The band was on a rough edge with that lately. They had been getting careless, letting their talent take over their performance instead of practice. When one note was mistakenly played for another, all of them would stumble; like the whole tower collapsing when the bottom is chipped. Malcolm made sure nothing like that happened again.

The bassist also remembered from his last visit here how lonely it was. The hotel was built where the casinos and restaurants weren't. Tourists for the city wouldn't dream of staying there, but a band stopping for a concert might change their mind. The night was quiet aside from the distant ambiance. A poor engine would drive by, make a u-turn and drive by again. The roads were full of circles and dead ends. Cliff didn't mind the quiet. It was different than his usual day of rowdy mates and screaming crowds. A good different.

His eyes opened to a small sound in the back of the hotel room. Quickly he glanced at the clock to see he had almost dozed off; a minute had passed. He supposed he was more tired than he thought. A second attempt had been interrupted as well, and a third was pointless as the sound grew more constant. Dragging himself off the couch, he made his way to the kitchen for a long glass of water. His hand grasped the cup from the cupboard when the noise resounded behind him, resulting in broken shards on the floor. "What on earth..." he muttered glancing around him. As he bent over to pick up the pieces (an idea he would soon regret), an eerie scraping sound emitted behind a door on the far wall. The glass pieces were stained red as the bassist cut himself, not paying attention to his activities and instead cringing from the scratching. He didn't remember this hotel being haunted, but perhaps his bad luck got the best of him.

The cut needed a bit of medical attention, or at least some tap water from a bathroom faucet. Unfortunately for Cliff, the bathroom was the room where the scratching came from. Facing the unknown cause of his confusion and slight terror was not how he wanted to die, but neither was bleeding everywhere, so he took his chances with the noise. Slowly and quietly, the door was opened. Nothing popped out at him, and a couple glances around the room assured him that he was overreacting.

Once a Band-aid was wrapped around his finger he made his way to exit when the noise echoed behind him. Turning around, he saw nothing. The sound seemed to be coming from one place he never expected a monster to hide in. With a careful hand, he opened the lid of the toilet and braced himself. There in the bowl, soaking wet and shivering, was a tiny kitten, no bigger than a baseball. "Oh shit," he muttered to himself. The kitten mewed again, seeming almost insulted by his choice of language. "Well, you're not shit, but-" Cliff didn't finish. He looked around for anything he could use to pick the innocent creature up with. A towel under the sink would work, but there was only two, and those would be used for his hair and person.

Cliff took a look at his hands. The same hands that would be playing bass in front of thousands that night. Each second he stared at them, the less appealing the idea was. But if he had nothing else... And the poor kitten was shivering so bad he was simply asking for empathy. Cliff couldn't give him any as he had no experience being trapped in a toilet but the least he could do was lend a hand.

Slowly and carefully the kitten was pulled from the water and held at a distance. Toilet water dripped all over the floor and Cliff made the uneasy sacrifice of using one of his towels to dry him off. Once settled in the bathroom sink, Cliff took a look at him. He was fluffy with swirls of pattern. A predominant ivory coated his underside while a black and brown topped his back. Two downcast green eyes blinked at the man. The man blinked back at him. He couldn't deny the cat's cuteness. But a critter like him didn't belong in a hotel room or on a tour with a famous band. Besides. Phil was allergic to cats and would never allow such an inconvenience to bunk with him.

Cliff sighed. A critter like him also didn't deserve to live a life of struggle on the streets. After all, the poor thing had just been taken out of a toilet! Making sure the towel was secure around the kitten's body, he took him into his arms and brought him to the kitchen sink where there was more room to clean him up. He just had to make sure he wouldn't cook anything there for a while. "Alright, little man. Let's clean you of piss water then, huh?" The kitten mewed in response.

With some dish soap under the sink, Cliff poured some on his hands and massaged the kitten. A look of relaxation came on the kitten's face as he was pampered. The soap went deep in his fur and clumps of it came out when he was rinsed off. "You are a gross little thing, aren't you? But I guess you can't help it. Ah ah ah-no don't climb out yet, you're not done." One more rinse and the kitten was again wrapped in the towel. "There you are, all clean now. Don't worry about paying me back," Cliff laughed.

"Mew."

"Hungry little fella?"

"Mew."

"Okay, let's see." The bassist went to the pantry for any suitable kitten food. The shelves were lacking anything fresh for human or animal. "You uh, want some cereal?" Cliff shook the box. "Cornflakes." The kitten only stared at him. "Alright, I guess not. That's more Angus' thing anyway," he said placing the box back. The fridge was searched next. "Well we have water. That's a start." A bowl of water was placed in front of the kitten and he sniffed it with curiosity. The man observed silently as a paw was dipped in, then a nose, then a tongue. Cliff smiled and turned to search for a meal to go with it right as a splash sent water in every direction. Cliff laughed when he saw two dangling back paws poking out of the bowl. "Hey now, calm down son. I just got ya' dried off!"

After removing the kitten, he closed the refrigerator door in annoyance. He had never been in charge of an animal before except when he took care of Bon when he came back from a night of drinking. Upon further examination there wasn't much difference between the two. Both were poor of mobility, and fluffy as hell. But the kitten was cuter, Cliff decided. In a last attempt to fill the kitty's stomach, he checked his suitcase. "Don't suppose you want a glass of wine, do ya'?" he chuckled. Containers of food were pushed aside in search of something-anything at this point.

"Mew!"

"I'm lookin', I'm lookin'... ah, here we go." On the plane ride to Nevada, the boys were given cans of sardines as a joke to "fish for women". They were thrown out as soon as they got the chance, but Cliff forgot to toss his. Good thing too. "Here you go, little man." Happily the kitten gobbled down his dinner. The minutes ticked by with Cliff happily watching his new friend enjoy his meal. Finally the man looked at his watch and cursed, accidently scaring the kitten. "Sorry buddy, it's already time!"

With shoes tied and bass in hands, Cliff reached for the doorknob and stopped when he heard the mew. Taking the kitten to rehearsal was frowned upon, but leaving him here was neglectful. With a sigh, he glanced around the room.

 

"Oi, Bon! Plug that in, will ya'?" Malcolm asked.

"Where should I plug it in to?"

"The fuckin' amp, mate, Christ don't give me that look!" Malcolm laughed as Bon made his way to plugging the cord in. The band was on stage making sure their instruments worked for the show. Angus scoped the stage, observing where he could and couldn't walk, and where he would just plain fall. Phil twirled a drum stick in one hand while playing a steady beat with the other. Cliff came running up just in the nick of time.

"Hey Mal, I made it."

"Good. Hook up your bass, we'll get play-" Malcolm stopped short. Turning around, he wasn't expecting his band mate to show up wearing a fanny pack around his waist. The shorter man cocked his head. "Uh, Williams?"

"Yeah."

"What uh...what's that?" Malcolm pointed at the bag and Cliff looked down at it. During his rush he grabbed the first thing laying around that could conceal a kitten. Which happened to be a spare fanny pack abandoned in the closet. Phil raised his head to see better which made Cliff nervous. If he found the kitten, it'd be the end of his stay. The bassist cleared his throat.

"Well- Angus wears a bag onstage, I thought maybe I'd wear one too."

"He wears a school bag with his school uniform. What on earth do you want a fanny pack for?"

"Well uh, I thought-"

"Hey Clifford! What's with the crotch purse?" Phil asked walking up to him. An amused look spread his face as he looked up at the worried one. "Don't tell me you've taken up a likin' of the sort."

"Of course not!" the bassist replied firmly. "It's not-"

"Then why d'ya' have one then, huh? Makin' a fashion statement, are you?" Cliff pushed Phil's hand away as he reached for it.

"Hands off, Rudd!"

"'Ey, quit playin' girls, we gotta practice. Phil mate, quit laughing at his crotch," Malcolm said trying with all his might not to laugh. Cliff begrudgingly plugged his bass in as Phil snickered his way to his drum set. Malcolm glanced around for his brother to see him sizing up the rafters he would eventually scale. "Ang! Get yer arse over here!" Angus shook his head and headed over.

"It's too damn high Mal. One wrong step and I'm butter on toast!"

"I'll call and have the stage hemmed up Ang, now on your side." Once everyone was in their spots, each of them would play a bit while nearby roadies made sure they sounded okay from different points in the stadium. During Bon's mic check, Cliff felt a struggle down south. The kitten seemed to be getting stuffy in the cramped space and demanded to be out. Cliff attempted to hide his discomfort but Phil had already seen.

"Hey Elvis! What the hell are you doin'?"

"Nothin'!" The drummer stood up and walked down to meet him. The opportunity to pick on his mates was just too tempting.

"Didn't look like nothin'." The two men got in an argument not two seconds later which annoyed Malcolm to no uncertain terms. He turned to face them.

"Would you two knock it off? No sense roughin' it out over there when we got things to get to. More important things!" His voice reached them in an echo and they backed away from the other.

"You heard him, back to your spot," Cliff said quickly. Phil gave him a suspicious glare and turned to leave.

"Mew!" Phil stopped in his spot. He looked back at the bassist with a wary frown.

"Did your dick just meow at me?"

Pssh, no," he dismissed.

"Mew!"

Malcolm got sick of watching the two get after each other. It happened on more than one occasion, and a harmony between them was a diamond among rocks. But that wouldn't stop the guitarist from trying. "Fellas? When I say knock it off, what part don't your thick heads get reception for?"

"Cliff's meowing at me with his dick!" Phil pointed at the taller man.

"Cliff, stop meowing at him. Can we get back to work now, please?" Phil looked quizzically at Malcolm at his lack of shock from the statement. Had he seen stranger things than this? But the drummer wasn't gonna let it go so fast. He stared the bassist down and Cliff swallowed in response.

"What's in the purse, Cliff?" No response. Malcolm sighed.

"Come on, Phil we can't just-"

"What's. In. The purse?" With a shaky hand, he removed it from the neck of the bass and down to the bag to pull out the tiniest kitten they'd ever laid eyes on. Phil stepped back a bit knowing what would happen if he got too close. Malcolm on the other hand, became a changed man.

"My God Cliff, how long were you gonna hide him from me?" he asked as he took him and snuggled him. Cliff smiled and looked at Phil, rubbing the reaction in.

"Well, I wasn't sure. But Ruddy here convinced me to bring him out. You like him?" The kitten purred as Malcolm kissed his head.

"Of course I do. Where'd you get him?"

"From my toilet." Malcolm's face dropped as well as the kitten. Cliff immediately picked it up, made sure it wasn't hurt, and scolded the shorter man. "What the hell you doin'?"

"You got him out of your fuckin' toilet?" Malcolm asked. The commotion brought over Angus and Bon who had been watching the fighting and betting on who would win. Malcolm turned and wiped his hands on his brother's shirt, much to Angus' distaste.

"Calm yourself Young, I washed him before I took him here."

"You washed him yourself?" Phil asked. Cliff nodded. "Oh yeah, he's completely clean now," he added with sarcasm. "You can't keep that thing here while we're practicin'. You know what happens if I touch him."

"I couldn't leave him alone Phil, you know that."

"Why was he in your fuckin' toilet in the first place?" Malcolm asked. Cliff shrugged.

"Dunno, just found him there. Cleaned him, fed him, time to go so I took him. You all understand, right?" Angus reached out to pet the kitten. It backed up a little remembering the last time he was loved, but soon gave in to his touch. Bon rubbed his paw for a moment, then looked at the current owner.

"What's his name, then?"

"How 'bout Mitchell? Ya' know, after me?"

"What about after me?" Angus asked, wanting to oppose his brother. Malcolm frowned.

"You want to name him McKinnon?" he asked with an air of disbelief. His younger brother shrugged.

"It sounds nice."

"How 'bout 'Never Gonna Happen So Take Him Away'?" Phil asked with a sigh.

"It sounds like an old cat's name, not a tiny kitten," Malcolm replied ignoring the drummer. Angus pointed a finger at Malcolm.

"Sounds better than Mitchell, that's too human." The boys argued about what to name it so fervently that Angus thought Cliff was still holding it, and Cliff had thought Angus had taken it. All of them started going at each other attracting the attention of the roadies. But none of them saw the tiny kitten scamper down the stage to the rafters. And none of them saw him climb the rafters like a monkey and certainly no one saw him walk along the beam above the stage. He stopped in front of a light which cast his shadow on the opposite wall. A huge grey kitten was projected behind the band which caught Phil's attention.

"Holy shit! Cliff, your cat..." The group followed Phil's point and trailed the path where the kitten had gone to. There he was on the highest rafter mewing with utter horror.

"Mew!"

"Fuck, how'd he get up there?" Cliff asked, his voice rising with panic. Phil snickered at his motherly attitude. He couldn't resist the incoming joke.

"I don't know Williams, why don't you head up there an' ask him?" Cliff shot him a look.

"How do we get him down?" Angus, who had been dreading to climb up them for the show, backed away hoping no one would put two and two together. But Malcolm knew in an instant.

"Ang! You can get him." The youngest boy shook his head. "Come on, you're the best climber out of us."

"Get one of the roadies to do it, isn't that their job?"

"I don't think this was included in their contract, Angie," Bon smiled. Angus crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Nope. Not happenin'."

"Please Ang? I can't bear to have him fall," Cliff pleaded. Angus widened his eyes.

"What about when I fall?!"

"You won't. Now help a mate out," Malcolm said. Angus looked at Cliff who looked legitimately worried for his pet. Angus couldn't help but feel sympathy, and decided to comply.

"Fine. But you're gonna have a hard time findin' a new guitarist in time for the show," he said as he walked to the pole.

"It's Vegas Ang, we can find anybody," Malcolm laughed. Angus climbed up the beams as far as he could go without throwing up. The world below him swayed back and forth and he reminded himself not to look down at least a thousand times. He reached the beam where the kitten was sitting and called him over. Being the cat that he was, he ignored him and walked further away.

"Damn thing, come here!" Angus whispered. He slowly inched his way to the other end of the beam, continuing to call the kitten over. Eventually he got close enough to grab it, but taking the cat in one hand means you only have one left to balance on. The world was spinning twice as fast, and the french fries he had for lunch that afternoon were threatening to fall.

"You got him, Ang?" Malcolm's voice barely reached him. Angus began to see stars, even while looking down below him, where he would end up one way or another. The idea of injury or possible death leading to a promising career cut short didn't sit well with him, so with all his careful might, he inched his way backwards on the exceptionally attenuated wooden beam. A slip here and there sent his life flashing, but only for a moment; he caught himself every time.

On the stage where it was safe, Cliff was wringing his hands like a mother goose whose egg was rolling down a hill; a hill filled with rocks and holes. Anything could go wrong and with his luck, would go wrong. Even after knowing him for an hour or so he had grown soft toward the kitten. His heart would be crushed if anything should happen to it.

Oh, and Angus too.

Minute by nerve wracking minute, the guitarist scooted off the beam and onto the crossbeams which carried them both up there in the first place. Closer and closer came the ground, which came in a much better fashion than Angus had feared. Finally-finally his feet touched the floor and his breath was released. The band came running over and the kitten immediately taken from his shaky hand. "You alright?" Malcolm asked. Angus shook his head which earned him a pat on the back. "You did good, Ang. A damn good job." Angus only wheezed.

"Thank God you're okay," Cliff whispered to his feline friend. Malcolm cleared his throat and jerked his head to the more dead than alive schoolboy, and Cliff grabbed him in for a hug. "Aw, come here, kid." The sound of the creaking wood was still ringing in Angus' ears, and he held his breath again so he wouldn't release anything he shouldn't on the bassist. Luckily for both of them, he didn't.

Phil had stood back the whole time the two were coddled. He didn't want to stare at that clump of allergenic fur Cliff was holding, but Angus wasn't a pretty sight to look at either so he was almost forced to. It could have been his imagination, but the kitten seemed to be looking at him; full of malicious intent. Wait till they're gone, and roll all over his bed... the kitten appeared to be thinking. Just you wait...

The drummer shook his head of the thought and weaved his way through the group. "Alright, alright, everyone's all safe an' sound now, so you can take your pet back to the sewer or wherever you found him, eh Cliff?"

"What are you talking about?" Cliff asked almost mortified. Surely Phil wasn't that nasty with a living being. At least, not outside of a bedroom. "No way in hell am I throwing a poor, defenseless creature out to the sewers like a monster!"

"And no way in hell am I allowing that thing," Phil pointed at the kitten. "to come with us on the tour. If I get one whiff of it I'm as good as dead. Don't you care Cliff? Don't you care that I might die?" Cliff tried to answer him but couldn't get a word out. "You send a boy up to save its life and barely even thank him when he comes back down? Look at him back there." The bassist turned around to see Angus lying on the floor, while Malcolm fanned him. Bon had to help hold his head up so he might regain some form of consciousness. Cliff turned back to see Phil, his lips in a thin line. "Bet ya' didn't even notice."

"Look, I see where you're scratchin' at, I get it. I don't want anything bad to happen to ya'." He snuggled the kitten tighter. "But I can't let him die either." Phil scoffed. "Look, whaddya want me to do? Flush him down the toilet again?" The drummer considered this leaving Cliff in a dilemma. "Mal, what should I do?"

Malcolm stood up leaving Bon on his own. Angus' limp arm dropped to the floor and the singer picked it up to check for a pulse. "What do you mean?" He turned around to see Bon give him the thumbs up then turned back. "With the kitten?"

"Phil wants me to kill it."

"I never said kill, Williams, there's a lot of ways to get rid of a cat without killing it," Phil called walking over. "Use your imagination."

"You son of a-"

"Alright then, knock it off will ya'?" Malcolm intervened before a fight ensued. It wouldn't be the first one either, and surely wouldn't be the last. "Both of ya' actin' like kids, then. Phil's right now, we can't keep a kitten on tour with us even if he wasn't allergic already."

"But we ain't gonna kill it."

"That's right, Cliff. Phil? Don't touch this cat," Malcolm warned. Phil raised his hands up.

"No problem," he muttered. Malcolm turned back to Cliff. The latter had a glint in his eye, one that worried for someone's well-being. The thought of a cruel owner or shelter would weigh heavy on his heart and conscience. Malcolm wouldn't allow that.

"What do we do?"

"Well-first we have to get Angus back in his right mind, then we have to find this little guy a new and safe home," Malcolm said shaking the kitten's paw. "One that isn't a toilet."

"There's three hours till the concert Mal," Phil reminded him. "How are we gonna find a safe home in Vegas?" Malcolm shrugged with a smile.

"Guess we'll use our imagination. How's Ang over there?" he called to Bon. The singer fanned Angus' face a little more, before slapping him hard. Two blue and dreary eyes opened to see four other pairs looking down at him. His hand reached up to comfort the delayed sting of his cheek and Bon laughed.

"He's alright now."

"Good. Hey, ready to find Mister Kitty here a new home?" Malcolm asked. Bon gripped Angus' shoulders and stood him up from the floor. The guitarist still looked a little green, but better than the ghost he was a few minutes ago.

"Now?" Malcolm nodded. "Uh, sure. But Angus over here might need some help walking, Vegas is a big town."

"Oh, he'll get over it," his brother muttered. His attention turned back to Cliff. "So. You ready then?" Cliff glanced down at the treasure in his hands.

"You promise he'll be safe?"

"Cross m'heart." The bassist nodded in agreement and the band started out for the town.

"Hey Cliff!" Cliff turned around. "What's his name?" Bon asked. Numerous possibilities swarmed though his mind but only one stuck out. He turned to the singer with a smile.

"His name is Maximus."

 

To be continued...


	5. Cats 'n' Casinos Part 2

Casinos

Cliff flinched at the stray hand reaching and grabbing lower on his person than a hand should. "Calm down, Williams, jus' takin' this stupid thing off, you look ridiculous," Phil said as the fanny pack was removed from his waist and tossed on the street. The group walked down the road toward a busier part of town where someone surely wanted a feline friend; and not just a woman in a costume.

Heat poured down on the men from the summer atmosphere. Every step felt like two, and the buildings in front of them seemed simple illusions; they never got any closer. The immense size of the structures gave hope that they would find one person fond of cats, but yet no guarantee was offered. Maximus was pressed against Cliff's chest for fear he might run off to another high area Angus would have to scale. The schoolboy had recovered from his previous nightmare and was not willing to risk his life again. Bon begrudgingly supported his right side, stumbling after him.

With a look around the area, Malcolm saw various rendezvous hosting potential kitten owners lining both sides of the street. Some drinkers started an afternoon trash can fire in an alley, each with a sizable smoke. Graffiti trained across the brick walls ending at a group of teenage artists making their print in the city. Malcolm nodded in approval. Across the street was a bar full of rowdy and classy folk alike. Cliff turned to the shorter man whose hand had slapped his shoulder. "Cliffy, this won't take a minute too long findin' your friend a home, there's plenty a takers here."

""Yeah, sure looks it," Phil mumbled rolling his eyes.

"They're a better chance than you, Rudd, so stuff it." The kitten began licking Cliff's knuckles which had him shifting positions as a result. His hind legs were supported with one hand while his front paws were trapped in the other. Fur pressed up against the man's fingers as the kitten struggled, but the hold would not loosen. Ignoring Malcolm's comment Phil took a glance at the squirming vermin out of the corner of his eye. If it got loose, he might have to make a run for it. The day he found out about his cat allergy was not a pretty one. After his cousin's molly had her first litter, his mother blessed him with his very own pet. A million wheezes later ended him up in urgent care with a brand new inhaler. Needless to say the kitten didn't stay and was soon replaced by a goldfish; which died two days later. Phil kept his eye on Cliff's pet. Malcolm pointed up ahead of the group inciting them to skid to a halt. "We're goin' up the road to those guys, see if anyone there'll snatch him up, yeah?"

"Think they could snatch Ang up too? Gettin' sick of carryin' him," Bon grumbled. Angus pulled his arm away like a little kid.

"Alright, alright, I'll walk." Malcolm nodded.

"Good, c'mon."

(Song break!---Sin City)

*******

Five pairs of feet jogged down the scorched sidewalk where the group of tourists stood. The boys were met with a colorful cast of characters. Coffee suede shoes under blue high waters sat snug on a tall, sun-screened man. Black suspenders rested on a white t-shirt which clothed a much shorter portly man. Next to them was a woman draped in short brown curls and kissed by cherry lipstick. Her floral dress was pinned up to her knees and the shoulders were puffed. A little boy peered from behind her wearing the ever popular striped t-shirt and jeans. A lollypop dangled out of his mouth and one of his pockets was inside out. Their attention was given to the five men and mammal which was taken into Malcolm's arms. "Excuse me," he stated with a smile. "Would any of you care for a new addition to the family?"

"You sellin' him?" asked the tall man.

"We ain't buyin' nothin'!" shouted the shorter man with a New York accent.

"Oh no, we're not sellin' him, but you see we can't keep him anymore and was hopin' somebody'd take him, ya' know?" Malcolm explained. The woman put her hand on the boy's hair and stroked it, all while giving the cat a snobby look. She glanced up to see Bon giving her a toothy grin, Angus looking back and forth at them amused. With a sneer the woman turned her attention back to the exchange in front of them. The taller man looked the kitten over, inspecting each paw while Cliff bit his lip. These didn't seem like the type of people he was willing to hand his friend over to. Phil on the other hand looked about ready to pay them to take it.

"Looks like a nice fella," the man observed. Malcolm didn't tarry agreeing with him.

"Sure he is, he'll lick ya' silly."

"I don't want my face licked," the woman declared with a stern face. Bon dropped his head and Angus gave him a pat on the back. Malcolm's smile vanished.

"I mean, no he won't. He'll uh-he'll leave you alone, it's like he ain't even there." His other hand came up to keep the kitten from scurrying out of his grasp.

"I tol' ya', we ain't buyin' nothin'!" the shorter man said again.

"Now Dad..." the taller man said turning to face him. His father responded with a sip of his beer. Malcolm shook his head.

"No sir, we ain't tryin' to sell him, jus' givin' him away."

"Nobody jus' gives nothin' away in Vegas, that's a different kind a business."

"He's just a harmless cat, Dad."

"Harmless? Cats have claws, he'll poke holes in all my beer! First you adopt the boy now you're gonna adopt a cat?" Both the man and woman closed their eyes and sighed at the older man's words. The kitten was drawn closer to Malcolm's chest, Cliff staying close beside him.

"What?" the little boy asked turning to the woman. All five men exchanged looks.

 

Back and forth the boys ran down the streets under the burning sun in hope of finding someone to take the kitten. One door after another shut on their faces, denying a new pet. Each one had their own way of going about it as well. Malcolm knocked on the door as the rest stayed behind watching, the door revealing a little girl. The short man thought he had the perfect opportunity handed on a silver platter. Kneeling down to her level he presented the cat.

"Hello, Miss," he smiled. "Would you like a sweet kitty to snuggle? He's real soft and sweet." His smile flattened when the little girl, after staring blankly at him, reached behind her door and pulled out a box of girl scout cookies, ready for a deal. Seeing how the girl was in a business of her own, he figured she was too busy for a kitten. He also wasn't willing to pay for them.

But Angus was.

The next door Angus took the liberty of knocking on. One hand held the kitten while the other balanced the box of cookies. His appearance was lovely with cookie crumbs speckling his face, mouth full. Behind the door was a beautiful young woman, and Angus was thinking he got lucky. "Hello, Ma'am," he mumbled politely, spitting out crumbs.

"Oh, hello," she answered. The young man troubled himself with taking out and enjoying another cookie, almost dropping the box. "What can I do for you?"

"We were wonderin', ya' know, if you wouldn't mind takin' this cat." The kitten was held up with one hand, clearly not comfortable with the position. Cliff watched from afar, also not comfortable. Maximus mewed in protest, but Angus continued talking. "We can't really keep him ya' know, and-" He paused to wipe his mouth. "-and we were goin' door to door-" The young woman wiped her face clean from Angus' spit and snack. "-askin' around. If you take him, you can have me as well." The young man spread his arms, showing her the deal. The door was shut on him, turning his less than charming smile downwards. Angus sighed, reaching into the box for another cookie only to find it empty.

"Give him to me, ya' sod," Bon exclaimed, taking the kitten from his companion. "Let the real pro show you how it's done."

 

Bon stood in front of the door, looking off into the distance, his shirt purposefully unbuttoned a good amount. One hand was on his hip while the other held Maximus in his palm. Angus stood behind with the rest of the guys, arms crossed and scoffing. "The fuckin' showoff."

The door opened and Bon began his method, turning to face the response. "Sorry to bother ya' Miss, but we was hopin'-ew!" The response was not what he expected-a gruff looking man in a bathrobe not having shaved anything. Bon suddenly felt unclean with his actions. With a scratch of his face, the man spoke.

"I've never seen a Jehovah's Witness like you around, this some...new custom?" His voice was slow and tired. Bon's face was trying to hide his disgust but failing too much. Angus couldn't help but laugh at the scene in front of them, earning a few giggles from the other guys as well. Whipping his head around, Bon frowned at his friends while they quickly tried to recover from their sporadic episode. With a small smile, Bon faced the music.

"Sorry to trouble you, sir, but my friends and I were wonderin' if ya' wouldn't mind takin' a good friend off our hands."

"I-I already know Jesus, my grandmother made sure of that long long ago." Bon stopped the man from closing the door on him.

"No, I mean, we're tryin' to give away this kitten my pal found. We can't keep him, see."

"Where'd he find him?"

"In his crapper, ya' know." The door was closed in a second. The group was still laughing when Bon stomped up to them. Handing the kitten off to Cliff he buttoned up his shirt again. "It ain't funny, ya' little asses! I feel almost violated."

"You weren't too lucky either," Malcolm said running a hand through his hair. Bon made a face at him.

"I can see that, Mal," he pouted. "Ang blows it with a girl an' I get the payment for it." The man had a slight issue buttoning the last one, and he considered leaving it off due to how much sweat he had put on. All of them were shining. But it was off to the next house for them.

 

The door swung open with Phil standing outside, his shirt pulled up over his nose and latex gloves over his hands. Maximus was held at a good distance away. Phil's voice was muffled as he spoke. "Will you for the love of God, please take this off our hands and especially out of mine?"

Unfortunately for Phil, an elderly woman answered the door, a paranoid one at that. It certainly didn't help his case as his appearance was slightly menacing. One scream and a shot of pepper spray was all it took to fend him away. The door slammed shut, scaring the kitten out of Phil's gloved hands. His hands were brought to his eyes as he groaned in pain, only to remember they held a furry allergenic cat not two seconds ago and he groaned again in panic. Cliff took off down the street chasing down Maximus while the rest of the band stayed behind to calm the drummer down.

After repeated failures including Angus pretending to be an orphan in need of someone to take his cat before he died, and Malcolm seeing a woman who already owned an unhealthy amount of feline companions, the band decided it was best to go as a group. This only resulted in a group of girls having a house party to recognize them, inciting the boys to try a completely different street after running away from their screams of certain excitement. The final house they tried belonged to a lovely family of three, perfectly capable of taking care of any living being. Cliff held Maximus closely, the boys encouraging him to give him into their loving hands. After a few more thoughts, Cliff shook his head and booked it down the street, not quite ready to give up his little buddy. With shouts of protest, the band ran after him.

(Song finished---)

*******

The sun was higher in the sky than it ever was before, burning craters in the boys' skin. They sat on the sidewalk, their backs to a concrete building, a layer of shade blessing them. Bon's eyes were closed, legs stretched in front of him. Angus had begun fanning himself with his hat, his curls blowing in his face. Malcolm and Phil sat watching Cliff in a patch of dirt in front of them, helping Maximus go to the bathroom; each donning a different expression. The two hours till show time were counting down, and Malcolm regretted that he had counted his chickens.

Cliff returned to the group, sweating bullets himself. Maximus was successful in the patch of dirt, and buried his work for someone to find later. "Hey guys, we better find someone fast, I think this heat is gettin' to Max," the man said cuddling his pet. Malcolm stood up to see him.

"What's up with him?"

"He's shakin' a bit, hasn't licked himself in a while, things like that."

"I hope he isn't sick..." Phil rolled his eyes. How could they stand there and coddle that animal when he was almost hospitalized in that neighborhood? How could he let himself be talked into taking the cat to the door? Maybe he thought if he helped, God or someone would have pity on him and speed the process up. Instead he was humiliated, and now he was hot. Phil's blue eyes searched across the street watching people go in and out of a casino. From his experience they were always nice and cool inside, and he might be able to get away and have a little fun. If they weren't gonna rehearse for the show he might as well do something with his time.

"Hey fellas," he started standing up. "See that casino there? Might be someone in there who'd take a free cat."

"They're gamblin' all their money away, Rudd, they can't afford to take a cat," Malcolm said in spite of him. "Besides. If Cliff here hadn't chickened out at that last house, we'd be in the clear."

"'M sorry, alright?" Cliff sighed. "Jus' didn't think they were right."

"They were the best damn people on the block!" Phil yelled. "Would you have chosen the bum instead? Or how about that lady that fuckin' sprayed my eyes!"

"Alright, Phil, we get it," Malcolm defended. Phil closed his eyes and rubbed his head in frustration. Angus broke in the scuffle with his own suggestion.

"Hey, we goin' inside or not? Me nuts are roastin' out here." A few looks of uncertainty were exchanged.

"Alright, let's go. Bon, gettup. We're goin' cross the street."

"Someone takin' the cat?" Bon asked, eyes still closed.

"Nah, Phil saw this casino and Angus is gettin' hot, so we're headin' inside." Bon yawned as he stood up from the sidewalk, brushing off specks of dust from his jeans.

"Wait, wait," Cliff began, a hand out in front of him. "We can't sneak Max in, no animals."

"Call him your service pet," Angus suggested with a cheeky grin. Cliff rolled his eyes.

"With your stumblin' around every time you need to cross the street," Malcolm said, pausing to look both ways then trip as if he were drunk inciting the band sans one to laugh. "you could use a service pet." Angus frowned and shoved his brother.

"Ain't my fault I get dizzy!"

"Alright!" Bon shouted, stepping in before there was one less Young in the family. "Now listen you lot, I got an idea. Anyone have a spare shirt? Or mind removin' theirs?" The other four exchanged looks while Bon waited patiently for an answer. Phil was the first to speak.

"Ya' know, it's a little uncomfortable bein' asked by a bloke, an' even more so to follow through with it." A cocky smile graced his lips and Bon shook his head. One by one the buttons were undone.

"Alright then, leave it to me," Bon answered. His shirt was shrugged off his shoulders and tossed aside right on the face of a disgusted Angus, being the perfect height he was for a coatrack.

"Where the hell is your idea?" Cliff asked a bit disgusted himself. The kitten was gently removed from his hands and cuddled between two large and sweaty palms.

"Ang, wrap the shirt around him." Angus did as he was told. Maximus was soon swaddled in the fabric of Bon's shirt. Bon held him up proudly. "Ah, see? The perfect disguise."

"You dress him up like a pile of dirty laundry?" Angus asked in disbelief. Resisting the urge to pop him a good one, Bon mimicked a baby, putting his thumb in his mouth. Four pairs of eyes lit up but one quickly dimmed.

"That's all great an' all, but what's a baby doin' in some man's sweat stained shirt?" Cliff asked.

"'Cause it's all we got, an' if anybody takes the time to ask, we'll take the time to say it ain't their business, ya' satisfied?" Bon replied. "'M fine without it anyway, fuckin' blazin' out here." Cliff looked at the kitten incognito.

"Still strikes me odd, is all."

"Here, Mal's got a kid, he'll look after him for you." Bon placed the bundle in Malcolm's arms who cradled him with experience.

"Mew!"

"See, Cliff? We got it, nothin' to fret over. But Bon, if he uses your shirt as a litter box-or, diaper-I'm handin' him back, alright?"

Bon sneered at Malcolm's remark and the band was off in the casino's shadow. The sun was beginning to hover at a low angle creating a nasty glare right in their line of vision. Whether the crowd or blinding light hurried them to the building, hurry they did. Their pace slowed as they reached the man standing outside, deciding who and who not to card. The black shirt and beanie were intimidating, not to mention sweat inducing. With a casual gait, the men stepped forward but were stopped short when closely observed. "You."

"Who?" Bon asked.

"That one, you." A large finger pointed directly at Angus who stood next to Phil. His own hand gestured to himself for confirmation and was granted it. Stepping forward he presented himself to the bouncer. "I.D."

"What?" Malcolm asked.

"I'm twenty three," Angus responded.

"If that's what your I.D. says, then by all means go inside." A hand was stretched out, open in front of the guitarist. After a second of disbelief, Angus reached into his jeans pocket, finding nothing and reached in the other one. Then he checked his back pockets. With his utmost misfortune, his passport had been left lying on top of his jacket on the kitchen table of his hotel room; with his identification inside. The bouncer wagged his fingers. "Come on then."

"Oh shit," Angus whispered. Malcolm rolled his eyes knowing exactly what was going on in his little brother's puny mind.

"What's wrong, Ang?" Bon asked not quite in the loop of things. Angus placed his hands on his hips running one over his head.

"Fuckin' passport's at the hotel," he muttered, cursing himself. The singer couldn't help the small grin.

"Tol' you not to wear that hat and sneakers," he said. "Makes you look like a lad."

"Should I wear a fuckin' tie then?" The bouncer wasn't swayed by the events.

"Got a driver's license on you?" All heads turned to the boy, who accidentally let out a chuckle, despite his stress levels ascending.

"Uh...no," he finally answered. When his entire family warned him he was going to regret it, he didn't think they were serious. The group was quiet for a moment as if they were deciding what to do with him, or without him if the bouncer had his way. "Shit."

"Well, I apologize for the inconvenience, but this casino's real strict with their rules, no one under twenty one is even allowed inside," the man in black said. Phil, leaning against the column, took out a cigarette, waiting for the matter to be settled. Personally he didn't care if Angus had to be left behind but he couldn't help but feel a little sympathy. He no less found humor for the situation. "Unless there's anything on you to prove your age..." The man shrugged in pity for Angus who stuck his hands in his pockets and stood away from them.

"Go on in, I'm holdin' you up," he said. "I'll wait out here for you."

"You sure, Ang?" Malcolm asked adjusting his hold on the 'baby'. "We can find a different one, ya' know." Angus shook his head slower than one who's had a good day.

"Nah, it's my fault I left my stuff, I'll take the heat for it." He could just feel the sunburns smoking on his skin. The kitten squirmed around in Bon's shirt though luckily Malcolm had acted fast enough. He remained a secret. "This just shits on everything, doesn't it?"

"Not for us," Malcolm laughed. "We look our age. Hey, if you wanna run up to the hotel an' grab your stuff there's no one stoppin' you."

"Even the baby gets in," Phil mumbled behind him.

"Baby needs to be watched," Bon remarked.

"I gotta warn you fellas, it gets pretty loud in there. There's smoke...if you don't want to have your baby in there with ya'..." Angus shook his head.

"No, he should really stay with his 'father'," he said glancing at Cliff. Malcolm, however, responded.

"Yeah, I know what I'm doin'. We won't be long, Ang, don't be too alarmed if there's less of us when we come out." The bouncer laughed, giving a whistle to the comment.

"My advice, head over by roulette. Plenty of single digits that way. Might think it sweet if you got a kid on ya'." The band laughed, surprised that Bon's plan was actually successful. Angus didn't laugh as much, disappointed he wouldn't be one of those not returning. Next time he'd be wearing his passport like a nametag. The bouncer moved aside to let the men through, Angus watching them. "Have a good time, guys." Taking the biggest spot of shade he could find, the guitarist sat down, knees to his chest, hat waving back in forth in front of his face. His disappointment grew when he realized his cigarettes were lying next to his passport.

Coins clanked uncontrolled down the slots of occupied machines, usually less than what was deposited. Flashing lights were blinking out of sync along with sirens going off once in a while. People passing by gave the bundle a glance or two, silently questioning the presence of an infant in such a circus. Places to sit at the poker tables were the most coveted this hour, and were objects of affection, being ornamented by panoplies of winnings. One pile was handed off to an unexpected recipient and a loud cry of shock and pity escaped the crowd. The former winner was not amused.

"Mew...mew!"

"Shhh, you'll get us caught, little man," Cliff said coming up to Malcolm and petting the bundle in his arms. "They were already starin' for bringin' you in."

"When's the last he was fed?" Malcolm asked. The bassist exhaled in remembrance.

"At least back at the hotel two hours ago. Prolly gettin' hungry again."

"We can't exactly feed him in here, even if we did have food for him." Phil's eyes sparkled.

"One of you get in the bathroom an' nurse him. He is a baby after all," he laughed.

"Can it, will ya'? You're gross," Malcolm said trying his best to ignore the drummer.

"Hey, it's nature." A scoff was his only response. "Maybe there's a food place 'round here, we can sneak him some people food."

"Sounds good, 's what I did," Cliff agreed.

"Might look weird," Bon commented.

"We'll have to use Phil's advice and find a bathroom," Malcolm said. "Give him water from the sink. I'm sure this heat's jus' doin' him in."

"Good, I gotta take a piss," Phil said crushing his cigarette and throwing it away. The group followed after his hasty steps and entered the nearest restroom. A man stood at a urinal, concentration broken when they came into view.

Phil took the farthest urinal away from their company while Maximus was sat by a sink. His tiny paws scrambled through the shirt attempting an escape. It proved futile when Bon acted quick enough to trap him in his palms. "Turn the tap on," he said holding him down. Malcolm reached for the tap letting the water pool by the drain. Carefully Bon slid his shirt to the water and let Maximus poke his head out just enough to bathe his tongue in the liquid. The room was silent save for the lapping of the water, and the awkward waterfalls from the other side of the room. The quiet allowed reason for watching the cleaner yet stranger activity. Bon noticed the man's wandering eye and smiled. "First time fathers," he said, earning a slow nod. The kitten finished his drink as Phil and his company finished their deeds. Quickly washing his hands and leaving in a rush departed the man, Phil instead taking his time. "Alright, shut it off."

"Jus' did," Phil said grabbing the paper towels with a smirk. Bon tilted his head with exasperation.

"Piss off, Rudd."

"Did that too." Once again the kitten was wrapped in Bon's shirt which he didn't miss; the restroom lacked air conditioning. The singer took possession of the bundle and bounced him on his shoulder. "Did anyone tell you make a lovely mother, Bon?"

"Did anyone tell you'd make a lousy lover?" he retaliated. The drummer beamed with pride.

"Not once."

"Oh right, stuffed animals can't talk." The pride was rinsed off his face with the snickers from the group. "C'mon, who's got money for food?"

"I've got a handful for poker," Cliff said searching his pocket. "Not sure I'll be able to place it."

"Or win it back, ya' know you stink shit at playin' cards?" Phil asked. "Just last week you lost to my cousin playin' strip."

"How'd you know?" Cliff raised an eyebrow while the man before him played a cheeky grin.

"Hey Cliff, yer camera's full." Bon stepped in between the two as Cliff made a lunge at the shorter man's throat. "Not the best roll of film in it either," Phil laughed.

"I ought to spin ya' on the roulette wheel!" Malcolm took over controlling the children for Bon who was with kitten. "Or better yet, play Russian style!"

"Knock it off, the both of ya'!" Malcolm yelled, shoving Cliff away. Phil received a sharp punch on his shoulder making him wince. "Yer out the door if there's so much as one more fight, ya' got that?"

"So what, we just suffer watching you and your brother argue and complain twenty four seven?" Cliff responded. "Not twenty minutes ago, Bon's breakin' up a dispute." A hand reached into a pocket pulling out a small sum of change and passed it to the singer.

"Here's sixty two cents I had layin' around, we can use it to get food for the cat," Malcolm snapped, eyeing the two musicians. "I know it ain't much but I'm willin' to part with it."

Bon studied the copper and nickel in his palm. "Bit stingy, aren't we Mal?"

"I know it's not much!" he repeated. "but it's all we got, an' it's enough for a bag of crackers. We'll crush 'em up for him." Bon led the way out of the bathroom holding the door open for his mates and another man entering. After denying any trouble about it, he headed for the bar where he figured there were snack machines. A whole row of them stood off to the side of the bar and eatery. One of them was free.

"Alright, let's see," Bon said sitting on the stool before the machine. "Heh, you'd think this was a game." One by one the coins slid down the hole landing in a pit inside.

"You'd think with all this money around we wouldn't have this much trouble findin' any," Malcolm noted. "A whole casino's worth a million bucks!"

"They don't use tokens to pay for the snacks," Phil laughed making Malcolm grin. "Ya' think the bar will accept my chips as real gold?"

"Poor Angus still has to spend his days in the arcade. It'd be news to him you have to spend real money," Cliff laughed. The snack machine wasn't satisfied with the amount paid and wouldn't hand over the crackers. Bon hated to break up the Angus joke fest ensuing but the bundle in his arms was panting which made the man nervous. He wasn't so sure food was the answer but it wasn't a terrible option.

"At least Angus gets tickets no matter how well he does. Gets maybe...two for shootin' those little ducks," Malcolm laughed.

"Hey fellas, Mal's paycheck isn't enough, I need more." Malcolm's laughter subsided as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight on each foot. Cliff reached into his pocket for his higher priced amount.

"How much you need?"

"Just a dollar or two. Thanks." A bag of crackers was deposited into Bon's hand and the snack machine was free again. In a corner the men stood, Cliff crushing the crackers through the bag and pouring out a sample for Maximus to eat. A few crumbs were accepted, but the rest was left alone. "Maybe he's not hungry?"

"Maybe you're just doin' it wrong," Phil suggested making Cliff sigh. "The cat knows where those hands have been."

"He really doesn't look real good," Malcolm observed changing the subject. Along with shortness of breath, Maximus had salivated all over Bon's shirt leaving it sticky to touch. Refusing to touch his food was the piss on the urinal cake. "You think he needs more water?"

"He needs a home already," Phil said. "I'm gettin' tired waitin' for a taker, we gotta go find one."

"We shouldn't keep Angus waitin' too long either," Malcolm added taking his brother into consideration. Phil couldn't care less what Angus was doing at the minute.

 

The sun had baked the man like a potato as the casino sunroof provided no shelter from the horizon heat. A nice burn sizzled on his arm and would eventually shed like a snake. Surely hours had passed since his mates entered the casino. Surely this was the end. Angus sputtered and coughed from the water dumped on his head, picking him up from laying on the ground. The bouncer's shadow cast over him offering little relief. The guitarist had to squint to look up at him. "You alive?" Another set of coughs prevented him from answering. "Thought I should check on you or somethin'."

Angus remained sitting on the ground bringing his knees to his chest. With one last sniff he said, "Didn't think to check for a pulse?" The bouncer chuckled to himself.

"You might have woken up before I found it." Looking at his watch Angus yawned. Forty minutes had passed without report from the guys. For a minute he feared they simply separated to play the slots after giving the kitten away. For another minute he worried he had come down with heatstroke and fainted; but upon feeling his forehead, he wasn't burning up. His arm was a different story being as red and patchy as it was.

"Fuck, that hurts," Angus muttered as he rubbed it.

"Sunburn? Not used to this heat, are ya'?"

"I should think my accent said otherwise," he replied with a slight smile. "My name...not so much."

"I'm real sorry I couldn't let you in," the bouncer started apologetically. "but twenty three or not you don't look the part, an' if you get caught we'll both be in trouble." The man on the ground shrugged.

"Hey, I'm happy to help a man keep his job. Though if I stay out here much longer I may lose my life."

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic," the bouncer chuckled. Angus laughed along with him and shook his head.

"Maybe just a little."

"Hey, if you think you're burning up, be glad you don't have to wear all this black." Completely clad in dark clothing stood the man, visible sweat through his shirt. Angus grimaced. "I wouldn't have, but my job requires intimidation. A scare factor, a tough guy. Ya' know what I mean?"

"You think I could pass as a roughneck bruiser but I still ain't twenty three?" The man at the door had to laugh.

"Take it as a compliment, man, looking young is what most people strive for."

"But lookin' like a child is a bit too far. Kind of helps with my job though, I can pass off the image. Really gives my last name a good kick in the pants." Another yawn worked its way to his throat and past his lips. He must have simply fallen asleep rather than given in to heatstroke, which he was grateful for.

"Any of your siblings blessed the same way?"

"If they were here I might say differently," Angus snorted to himself. "They're all older than me, it would be odd if they were."

"All my siblings look like their mom," the bouncer explained. "I'm the only one born of a different mom, so I took after her. None of us were really blessed, mostly 'cause my dad looks the youngest of the three!" After a few minutes of letting out jokes and cracks at their families, both men settled down and let the silence fill the gaps. A few more people here and there were allotted into the casino and Angus watched with envy. Air conditioning sounded really good right about now. "What am I doing?" the man finally said smiling at his acquaintance on the ground. "Name's Patrick. Don't suppose I need to catch your name." Angus smiled.

"I'll throw it anyway. Angus." The bouncer reached his hand out for a proper greeting, but retracted back in thought.

"I'd shake your hand but I don't know if I can reach it with you sitting." The guitarist slowly got up from the ground and offered his hand.

"I couldn't reach you standin' up." 

 

The roulette wheel was crowded with players, four band members, a kitten, and fans of AC/DC to spare. Bon had handed Maximus off to Cliff who had become increasingly worried about his feline pal. He knew cats didn't pant, and they certainly didn't wheeze like this. Taking the sweat and spit stained shirt in his arms he lightly bounced him up and down hoping it'd calm his nerves. Rather, a stream of vomit was added to the foul mixture. Bon refused to take his shirt back.

"None of these people are willin' to take him," Malcolm said showing up behind the bassist. "None of them are interested in takin' a cat home, they'd rather walk away with money."

"Can't blame 'em, 't's what they came here for," Cliff replied. "We should get back to the hotel, Maxy isn't doin' well." Four eyes grazed the area for Bon who had been snagged away by a brunette, and Phil who joined his mates with a bottle of water.

"That's still here?" he asked taking a drink. His face scrunched up at the sight and smell of the disguise. "What he'd do to Bon's shirt?"

"Got a little sick is all, we need to take him home," Cliff replied walking away. Every footstep of his was echoed with two and soon enough Phil was walking right beside him.

"We came in here for nothin' then," he remarked, pacing himself. "No one took it, an' we can't waste anymore time before the show. You blokes hardly even tried!"

"Better than you!" Cliff answered as he weaved his way in and out crowds of plenty. "He needs a good home, a safe home. You'd just hand him off the first person that says they want-" The man stopped short as he realized where his sentence was going. "Nevermind," he quickly added.

Phil snickered to himself in spite of Cliff's embarrassment. The swarm of people filtered out as they got closer to the exit when a voice shouted out. "Oi, lads! Hold yer fuckin' horses, Bon's not out yet!" Malcolm stood on the tips of his toes as he got the message across the room. Both men looked around not seeing the singer anywhere within calling distance. A smoker's pipe clouded the vicinity with a thick fog. Cliff carefully wrapped his pet tighter, concealing him from the smoke. The bundle was bounced a little, hoping for some comfort to find the kitten inside. A passing woman caught a glimpse of the fatherly bassist and simply had to show her interest.

"How lovely! This your baby?" she asked with a strawberry smile. Cliff made sure the kitten's face was invisible then returned the smile.

"Uh, yeah he's-he's mine, I couldn't find a sitter and I had to meet a friend here," he explained as he looked anywhere but the woman. A glance at Phil's amused face also drove his attention away.

"The shirt's big enough to cover his little head!"

"Yeah, I-wanted to keep the light out, ya' know? Really I wouldn't have taken him in but-some people are just so demanding." Phil knew right away that comment was directed at him. The drummer stepped in with his own words.

"Yeah, they are. Real shame that 'friend' couldn't even make it." Now the blame was put on Angus. Had the miniscule rabbit been there, he would have worded it different. A kind look graced the woman's face.

"You two must be so proud." Confusion turned to concern as the men exchanged looks. Phil raised his hands as a, "you settle this" gesture. "Is he adopted?"

Cliff acted fast. "Y-y-yeah, he's adopted, but I'm not-I mean we're not-"

"Oh, you don't have to hide anything from me, I'm a full supporter. Makes my heart happy to see such young love out in public where they're free. Just wish it was like that everywhere. But if you want it on the down low, I'm no snitch." A wink and a laugh later, the woman patted the bundle and left the men alone. Phil and Cliff stared at each other with growing more disgusted by the second faces.

"Ugh!" they both shouted as they turned away.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Phil muttered.

"Waitin' for Bon, remember?"

"Mal can wait for him, I don't want this place thinkin' we're queers." Cliff sighed and shook his head.

"An' I don't want to wait to take Maximus back, an' I'm sure Mal jus' hates to keep his little brother waitin' in the hot sun. The man's practically made of chocolate, he's no doubt melted by now. You can go on an' leave, but I don't need Mal yellin' at my ass." Cliff scanned the room for Bon again. His voice cut to a murmur. "Though if Bon doesn't show up soon, I'll set his ass on fire." Phil lifted a hand to his mouth, choking out a laugh. Another woman came up to the men with a purse hung on her arm.

"I know he's probably asleep, but may I have a peek at your baby? I just love babies!" A delicate hand reached over to pull the shirt away when Cliff pulled the 'baby' away. The bundle was pushed in Phil's direction who in a reflex attempt at dodging his allergen, stumbled back into a man who was carrying a huge silver tray heaping with winning tokens out the exit. Phil's shoulder blade burned with a sharp pain and he couldn't care less where the stupid, fuckin', piece of shit tray was gonna land. The man no longer carrying those winnings, however, did care.

"You wanna try that again, you four foot sonuvabitch?"

His free hand reached out to grab Cliff's shoulder while his other hand cupped his own. "C'mon, let's go!" The woman was apologetically shoved to the side in order to avoid a quick death by an unhappy passerby. It was worth it.

The two men found themselves lost in the crowd again this time breaths heavy. Cliff checked on the kitten again and saw him mouth open, tongue out, eyes closed. "Oh shit," he breathed, holding back his panicked tears. He hoped to God he hadn't been smothered. It was way past time he took him back to the hotel. Cliff looked at his watch. Another hour till the concert at the MGM. The man knew at that moment that no performance could ever amount to the life he held in his hands. Fans were more than important to him, but they were just gonna have to wait. "Phil, I'm leaving. Max isn't doin' well."

"He wasn't doin' well ten minutes ago," the drummer responded dryly, keeping his eye out for a certain pugnacious fellow. Cliff rolled his eyes and gave his mate a pleading look.

"He's worse now! He might be dying..." An obvious crack in his voice got Phil's attention.

"So, just go...put him outside in the shade or somethin'. If he dies, we can...find a good place to put him so the dogs won't get him." Cliff's ears turned red at the words they heard.

"You son of a bitch!"

"What did I-"

"A livin', breathin', God's precious gift to man, animal is dyin' an' that's all ya' have to say? You'd just stick him in a hole somewhere left to rot?" Phil put his hands up in defense of Cliff's advancing figure.

"I said a good place, so he won't get eaten by a wild animal! Fuck!" His hands reached out to grab anything that might delay his fall to the ground, the sting in his shoulder returning thanks to Cliff's fist.

"No, you want to leave him out in a ditch jus' so you won't have to care for him anymore!"

"It's not my cat! I shouldn't be the one takin' care of it in the first place! Forgive me for carin' about my life too, that thing will kill me if you get too close, Williams!" Phil had never seen such fire in his bandmate's eyes. Not since his favorite team lost the season, anyway.

"You're right. This kitten came to me for help, to me to save his life, an' I've done all but let him down because you're in my way. Do me a favor, Rudd, stay out of my way." Cliff veered off to the side walking quickly to the exit door. Phil could hear Malcolm yell behind him but he ignored it.

"Listen to reason, ya' moron! You can't keep lookin' forever, no one wants it! It's gonna die in this heat an' bein' smothered in Bon's fuckin' shirt ain't helpin'!" Cliff kept walking from Phil's anger. "Why can't you just let it go?!"

The bassist turned back one last time. "Because I'm not a monster, Rudd. I'm not like you." With that, the man was gone from his sight.

Malcolm and Bon came up behind Phil who was left standing there speechless. Looking around Malcolm said, "Great, now where's Cliff?" Phil slowly frowned.

"I don't give a damn." He stormed off toward the exit making sure to keep any distance between him and his new opponent. Malcolm and Bon took a moment to register this sudden yet not quite new behavior from the drummer and quickly followed after him. 

 

"So I finally saw the therapist my mom suggested and I got the help I denied I needed," Patrick explained, putting the finishing touch on his life story. He and Angus were standing with their backs to the wall of the casino each with a cigarette in his mouth, curtesy of the bouncer. Angus' was almost gone and he was craving another, but he thought it impolite to ask. He grinned at the irony. "Been ten years and I haven't cried once."

"How often do you watch Sesame Street?" Angus asked. Patrick shrugged.

"Dunno. But I'm not afraid of that yellow bird anymore, and that's all that matters."

"I'll smoke to that," Angus grinned, holding out his hand for another smoke. Patrick only laughed and crumpled his up, throwing it away. Angus' smile fell as he slowly retracted his hand. A rich silence fell upon the two, blending in with the whirr and buzz of city ambiance. The guitarist hadn't even bothered to check his watch lately. Another group of people was allowed entrance to the casino, exchanging good evenings with Patrick. The man let the door close, looking at Angus to the left of him. He really didn't look twenty three, but maybe...

"Hey." Angus turned his head. "How 'bout I let you off the hook?"

"You mean let me in?"

"Sure, why not? You seem like a cool guy, no one's ever given me the time of day to listen about my life." Angus' face brightened at the news he was hearing but had trouble believing. "Go ahead, it's no trouble."

"You're serious? But, I could be seventeen for all you know!"

"Go ahead, an' if anyone gives you trouble, I'll take the heat for you," Patrick smiled. Angus returned the smile but stayed where he was. "Go on, your friends are waiting." He stood away from the wall and headed for the door.

"Thanks, mate, I really appreciate it-" A sharp whack to the forehead sent him straight to the concrete sidewalk below him, turning black soon after. Cliff stormed out of the casino, both arms around Bon's filthy shirt, not once turning back to check on the man he just took out. All four limbs lay sprawled out beside him, left to cook in the sun. Seconds later the door opened again to a pissed off drummer, and finally two confused bandmates hustling behind them. Malcolm nearly tripped over the corpse at his feet, which also freaked him out for a second.

"Aw, Angus!" he mumbled, stepping over him. "Can't take two seconds outside, can ya'?" Angus made no response.

"They're gettin' away, Mal," Bon noted, watching the two leave in a rush. Malcolm saw them too, but couldn't leave his brother out to roast.

"Ang, gettup!"

"I got him, I got him." Bon grabbed ahold of Angus' torso and hauled him over his shoulder. Two limp arms hung down Bon's back while his waist was secured from the fireman's carry. With a nod, the three of them hurried down the street back to their hotel.

 

Fifty times the elevator button must have been pushed. When it opened allowing a plethora of people to filter out, Cliff lost his patience and ran to the nearest stairway. Taking two at a time, he reached his floor.

The door slammed open, leaving the keys in the lock. The lifeless bundle was placed on the table, the sticky shirt thrown off of him. The water in the bowl Cliff brought over was shaking as it was placed next to him; none of it taken. A finger brushed over the wispy fur in hopes of stirring up a response but it didn't happen. Short, shallow breaths hit his finger as he tapped the kitten's nose, being the only sign he wasn't dead. No hole would be dug for this creature tonight, Cliff would make sure of it. With forty minutes left until the concert, he tried everything he could think of to revive his friend.

Malcolm, Bon, and the lower half of Angus peered in the open room. There they saw a man gently pouring drops of water on a kitten's lips, and rubbing some through his fur. Gently, but futilely. Wondering whether or not to enter, Malcolm cleared his throat and advanced a step. "Uh, Cliff? We saw you an' Phil havin' a match an' we-"

"Get out!" The response was so quick Malcolm wasn't sure he heard him correctly.

"Cliff, do you need help with anythi-"

"I said get out!" A pillow was grabbed from the couch and thrown at the men, only grazing Malcolm's leg. "There was no match, only a slight disagreement is all."

"You call the water boiling in the indoor pool from your guys' anger a slight disagreement?" Bon remarked, stepping further inside. "Now what the hell happened between you two?"

"Phil's a jackass, now leave."

"We know that, but what's driven you over the edge?" Bon asked again.

"It's nothing, so just get out and quit distractin' me, you'll kill him!" Cliff stood from his slightly crouched position and headed for his door.

"Kill him? What are you talking *slam!* about?" Malcolm began pounding on the door but the man wouldn't answer.

"Cliff! Open this goddamn door!" Bon shook his head.

"Come on, we'd be more useful getting Angus to wake up," he said. The shorter man paused, sighed, then nodded and they headed to his hotel room.

Cliff paced the room, one eye always watching the kitten on the table. He rubbed his hands together till they were blistered and raw, then he rubbed away the pain. Nothing was working. Each heartbeat was getting smaller...and slower. Cliff thought about calling for help at the front desk, but they were prepared for a human emergency, not a kitten. Still, it couldn't hurt to try. With a kiss on the head, he left Maximus on the table; a pillow underneath him and a small fan he found in the closet blowing on him. The door closed behind him softly, not wanting any attention drawn in his direction.

Phil leaned against the ice machine, watching the man run down the hall and fly down the stairs. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed, and a cigarette between his teeth. Taking care of that animal was useless, couldn't he see? It would die and he'd only have himself to blame. Of course that wouldn't stop him from unleashing his Viking temper at him. Making sure he was completely out of sight, Phil took careful steps up to the hotel door. His hand grabbed the keys still lightly swinging in the lock, and turned them.

The room was a mess. Plentiful, almost comical methods of care giving were strewn about, each confirming to the man that they didn't work. He wasn't surprised in the least. The scene on the table was even worse. It was just a furry lump on its side with barely a breath left. Phil took out the extra set of plastic gloves he snagged from his room and stretched them over his hands. He borrowed a nurse mask out of a first aid kit and placed it over his mouth. This mission would not land him in a hospital. Before picking the critter up, he grabbed a hotel pen and notepad, leaving Cliff a little notice of where he'd gone. The paper was placed not where he'd find it easily, but one that would take a little searching. Taped to the do not disturb sign hanging on the inside of the doorknob. Phil hesitantly approached Maximus a second time. He was doing him a favor.

 

Throwing everything around the room twice, three, four times he couldn't find him. Maximus had somehow left the room when he was sure he closed the door. To see the table empty he was scared at first that he might have fallen off. Uplifted that maybe the kitten had revived enough to jump down, and scared again that someone might have taken him. It wasn't until he was slumped on the floor in a worried trance that he saw his doorknob hosting the clue to his disappearance.

Malcolm opened the door to his room after hearing repetitive thunderous knocks. Angus had just woken up and strained every muscle in his body yelling at Malcolm to go open it. Bon refused to be the one to carry him around anymore so he was plopped on the couch; though he was still willing to slap his sense into him again. What Malcolm saw was not what he was expecting. Cliff looked up at the current residence after peeling his eyes from the floor and shook his head.

"I've been a real nimrod."

 

"Well, he's not a ten yet, but we're working on it," Doctor Maggie said, cleaning off her stethoscope with a clean rag. "In a few weeks, maybe days he should be back to his old self."

"Thank God," Cliff said running a hand through his hair. Phil stood across him, an arrogant smirk pressed on his lips. Malcolm had taken a seat in the corner while Bon stood next to him, leaving Angus with the small couch to lie on. An ice pack was held on his forehead and another episode of tinnitus was coming on. As soon as they got the news they ran to the vet Phil had said he'd taken him to on the note. Cliff had felt so ashamed he didn't take him there first, but Malcolm dismissed it saying they had all forgotten. The operating room behind them was buzzing with activity, once in a while sending someone through the door for some much needed water. Bon was the first to ask the question they were all dying to know.

"So uh, what exactly was wrong with him? It obviously was more than heatstroke." Maggie took out a clipboard from her desk drawer and a pencil.

"He seems to have a hiatal hernia, right in his esophagus. It's a good thing you brought him here, any longer he might not have made it." A whisker dropped on the floor would have sounded like a marching band. Angus dropped the false idea that his day was going worse than anybody else's. Cliff hung his head, raising it a little only to see Phil looking sort of sorry himself. The kitten no bigger than a baseball shouldn't have to go through larger than life surgeries, but they'd give it to him if it meant he'd live to see another day. Cliff picked himself up from the wall and sauntered over to the man across from him.

"You hear them?" Cliff asked. "Maxy's gonna be fine." Phil smiled weakly.

"Yeah, I heard. Great news, ain't it Pops?" Cliff couldn't smile at the joke. Not with the nagging feeling of guilt plucking his heartstrings like that.

"Why-why didn't I think to take him to the fuckin' vet?" he asked almost at a whisper. Phil looked him in the eye.

"'Cause you're not like me." Cliff winced at the words. His own statements echoed in his mind with a force. There was something he needed to say. "Course, that was just a heat of the moment type crack, ain't it?" Phil smiled.

"Look, I shouldn't have said all that to you, I jus' got so protective of Max an' I wanted to get him better before he..." Cliff sighed. "An' you runnin' yer fuckin' mouth every two seconds was pissin' me off." Both men shared a small laugh. "I guess I wasn't thinkin' about your health as much as I was about his."

"Hey, I'm still cruisin'. I shouldn't have been so heartless toward it-him, he-he's really a cute little thing. If you squint. Tell anyone I said that an' you're dead."

"Tell anyone about that roll of film an' you're dead." The men shook hands.

"Deal." When their hands separated, Cliff lifted his arms up.

"C'mon, let's have a hug." Phil grimaced at the man, hoping he might be kidding. "Gotta have a hug, mate."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious." The man took a glance around the room. "What are you doin'?"

"Makin' sure that woman from earlier ain't watchin'." Cliff initiated the hug with a laugh, engulfing Phil in his arms. The drummer lightly patted his back, initiating the separation.

"Hey, if you ever need help with a stray animal, I'll be right over to help."

"Thanks," Phil smiled. "Are we back in business?"

"Back in business." The men shook hands again while Malcolm held his watch up to the clock on the wall, hoping they were wrong.

"We'll be out of business if we don't get this show on the road."

"Mal, it's gonna take weeks for him to get better, we don't have that kind of time to wait," Bon stated. "If you had a hernia you wouldn't want to travel anytime soon now would ya'?"

"I can't jus' leave him here," Cliff said looking toward the operating room. Malcolm came up behind him placing a hand on his shoulder. "Mal, I can't."

"That's the last thing we want to ask you to do, mate," he answered. "But what else can we do? Miss the show or not, we can't stay here more than one more day. It's come to that." Cliff turned his head to Doctor Maggie for advice but she had gone in the operating room minutes before. Above his head was a framed picture of her, holding a cat. It was fat and yellow, captioned from the fifties. If she had a cat herself years ago, then she would certainly empathize with him, and know exactly what to do. A few minutes later the light in the room brightened so Maggie, who had returned to the men, could see what she had written. Angus hissed and covered his head in his arms.

"Doing fine in there, we're almost done," she informed with an air of glee. "Sure is a brave one."

Cliff stepped up to Maggie with his question on his lips but Bon beat him to it. "How did the little scamp get this hernia anyway?"

"And what exactly is one anyway?" Phil added.

"A hiatal hernia is when the stomach pushes through the hole of the diaphragm. A kitten as young as that usually gets it from his genes, but in this case it appears to have been trauma."

"Ouch, sucks to be him right now," Phil whistled. Cliff gave him a snarky look causing Phil to cough over his words.

"What sort of trauma?" Bon asked. Cliff wasn't upset by the interruption this time. He too was curious about this apparent trauma that plagued his feline. This caught everyone's attention, and it was assumed Angus was listening by the way he lifted his elbow to hear.

Maggie bit her lip. "Well, anything violent, ranging from abusive ownership or any mischief the kitten's gotten into. Would you happen to know of any such incident?"

All eyes turned to Cliff who shrugged. "Don't look at me, I've been watchin' him close since I found him." The only time he could recall Maximus ever getting hurt around him was when he slipped in the water dish hours ago. That, and when-

"Oh shit," Malcolm whispered. Angus moved his arm completely out of the way this time. A hand ran through his long brown hair. Bon glanced at Cliff, then back at Malcolm.

"What?" he asked.

"Cliff, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," Malcolm apologized. No one else in the room seemed to remember the accident when Maximus and his first location were revealed.

"What happened?" Bon asked again.

"I dropped him, remember?"

"Hardly."

"Oh, you were over with Angus behind us. I dropped him on the stage when I first held him." Bon rolled his eyes.

"Good going, Mal."

"Hey, it ain't his fault!" Cliff defended from the side. "It's not your fault, Mal, it was just an accident, he'll be okay now." Malcolm leaned back in his seat. It was his turn to cover his face in his hands.

"I feel shit-awful. All this 'cause of me. Fuck," he muttered. The rest of the men gave him the silence to vent out his regret. "Fuckin' shit..." Maggie lifted her head from her clipboard at the sailor vocabulary. "Pardon me over here. Fuckin' hell."

"How high did you drop him from?" Maggie asked.

"Judging by the height of his legs, I'd say about one foot," Phil piped up making him and Angus laugh. Malcolm smacked Angus' shoulder receiving a brotherly glare. He didn't bother to get up to smack Phil. He could do it later.

"I don't know, I was jus' standin' when I dropped him."

"Foot an' a half then," Phil said.

"Shuttup!"

"Doesn't sound like a very large drop, I don't think that's the kind of trauma that did it. It had to have been blunt force, usually something done on purpose. You said 'found', correct?" she asked Cliff. He nodded. "Where exactly?"

"Uh," he coughed. "I found him in my hotel room a few hours ago. He was meowin' from the toilet." Maggie nodded her head in conclusion.

"That's a terrible place to leave a kitten. Sounds to me like you've saved an orphan." Cliff sat up a bit straighter. "Must have been left behind by the old owners, and if you found it in a hotel toilet, who's to say no other questionable activities were committed?"

"Glad it wasn't my fault," Malcolm sighed in relief.

"I hate people sometimes," Bon muttered. "Don't you fuckin' treat an animal that way, look where he's in now."

"Lucky I found him," Cliff said. "The hotel we're stayin' at's next to nothin', it could have been weeks before he was found."

"You must have caught the chance right on time. Any later, it might not have made it through your little scavenger hunt through town," Maggie smiled. "The old owners might still be in town themselves."

"Wish we could find 'em and fuck 'em up," Bon said.

"If we had time we would," Malcolm interjected. "But we gotta be at MGM in less than twenty minutes if we don't want to fuck anyone over." Looking at his bandmates waiting for anymore comments or questions from them and given a clean page, Cliff spoke up.

"This your cat in this picture?"

"Oh yes," Maggie beamed. "My prized Siamese. He wasn't as mean as they're made out to be, but he got in plenty of trouble just the same. Came home one shift and found all my cupboards open with him sleeping inside one of my cooking bowls. He glared at me when I woke him up, but he left just the same."

"You have any pets before him?" Malcolm asked.

"Several. All cats. I've had cats in my family since before I was born, and I've had them since. My last one, Carlisle, died of a respiratory infection last month. It happened so suddenly I hadn't set time off to get a new one. Sure there's more time for work but that's all it is anymore, work." Cliff didn't take his eyes off the picture of Maggie and her cat. "There's no loving pet to come home to anymore."

The wooden frame hung on the wall, slightly crooked. Maggie was crouched on the floor holding her Siamese in her lap, one paw set upon a present under a shining Christmas tree. With such a love for and knowledge of animals, it was no wonder she had had so many pets in her life. The tragedy with Carlisle seemed to have put a halt to her companionship.

This had to be some higher force for this chance encounter to occur. Of all vets in the town, Miss Maggie and her love for cats was the one taking care of his Maximus. It broke his heart to leave the kitten in such a crucial state, but with the lack of time creeping up on them, and such a fortunate opportunity for a good home, Cliff knew what action he had to take.

"If it's all the same with you," he started. "I wouldn't mind leaving him here with you. You seem to know what you're doin' better than I, an'...I trust that you take good care of your cats." Maggie raised her head at the suggestion, each of the band doing the same.

"That's not a bad idea," Bon agreed. "Bein' a vet an' all, she can easily get him the help he needs. Should anything else go wrong."

"You sure?" Maggie asked. "I'd be happy to take over for you, it really would be a while before recovery is complete. But, I don't want you to make a decision you'll regret."

"I wouldn't regret leavin' him in good hands, an' your hands are the best in Vegas." A crimson sheet filled up his face as he realized what left his mouth. A loud barking laugh came from the side of the room, revealing Angus about to fall off the couch. Phil came up behind Cliff, a smirk on his face, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Smooth, Williams."

"You all know what I meant!" he squeaked. "Sorry, I just-meant that I know you'll take good care of him." Maggie grinned again and waved off his sorry way with words.

"I'd be happy to. One more thing, gentlemen, before you leave, maybe I should tell you a little detail you seem to have missed. I noticed when I went in there."

"What's wrong?" Cliff asked.

"That kitten in there is a calico, you can tell by looking at the markings." The band exchanged glances and shrugged.

"Yeah?" Phil asked. "What's that mean?"

"Due to the color combinations of black and an orange brown, the X chromosome is more likely to appear."

"In English please, Socrates," Bon teased. Maggie paused for dramatic effect.

"He's a girl."

The laughing commenced again and Angus was sure he'd need a visit to a doctor soon. The fact that no one else was laughing with him didn't faze him. Bon gave him a funny look, while Cliff put a hand to his face. "A girl?" he asked stunned. All this time he had been looking after a female kitten, and he hadn't noticed. Then again, no one else did either. "Are-are you sure?"

"Of course, I could see her from the operating table. If you look right under the tail, you can see the-"

"Okay, okay, we believe you," Phil finished. "Guess that's why she liked you so much, huh Cliffy?" he chuckled.

Malcolm tapped his foot looking at his watch again. "'Bout fourteen minutes, guys, we ought to get goin'."

"Don't we get to wish Maximus a happy farewell?" Bon asked.

"I think you mean, Maxine," Angus chided in. Cliff shook his head. Maximus would always be the name associated with the critter he saved from the toilet whether it was male or female. Of course he couldn't ask the doctor to continue calling her the same name, but that wasn't up to him anymore anyway. The only thing he could ask for was one last goodbye.

"You can go through that door and look through the window. Surgery isn't done yet, and she can't have any foreign substances in the room with her, so unless you want to change into scrubs real quick you have to stay behind the window." Malcolm was about to deny access to the attire but looked at Cliff. He was closest to the kitten, so it wouldn't make sense for them all to dress up. But maybe...just one...

The clothes fit loosely over the man's frame. The only men's size they had was for a six foot tall strongman, and Cliff wasn't one to take up too much space. Angus and Malcolm would no doubt have to wear a woman's size, furthering their decision to stay behind the glass. The rest of the band stayed behind the window to watch the farewell. Standing by the table, he saw a gruesome sight; a tiny kitten with a hole in her throat, metal tools poking inside. Being asleep she didn't feel any pain, for the pain had been passed onto those who loved her, and wanted the best for her. The man standing beside her felt every last ounce, and took it gladly.

His gloved hand touched her tiny pink nose, and grazed over the fur on her head. It was scary to watch the nurses beside him work, but he knew she would be all right. She was a fighter, and that's when he knew there really was no other name fit for her. She would always be his Maximus.

 

Six months later...

The pause in the rain proved faithful as the band took their planned day trip to the zoo. When they got there, the lines for entrance were short and there were no crowds barring the way for the men to see. The meerkats were Cliff's favorite. They were small and playful like infantile kittens. The name they adorned also added to his liking. Malcolm thought the kangaroos were the best and he and Phil each picked out a kangaroo from the bunch they thought was the toughest. After Malcolm's kangaroo took a swing at Phil's kangaroo due to one foot stepping outside its own territory, the boys had to be escorted away from the enclosure so they would stop encouraging the fight through their yells of motivation. Bon wanted to hold the boas and pythons in the snake sanctuary. Angus didn't like that idea as much, and headed off in the direction of his favorite, the koalas. Holding one of them didn't seem as dangerous.

"Look, she likes me," he bragged showing off the animal in his arms. The men had yet to catch up with him as they watched Bon handle the snakes a little too close for their liking. Malcolm was the first to reach him, the camera swinging around his neck.

"That yer date for this evenin'?" he smiled. Angus stuck his tongue out. "My my, gettin' Frenchy before dinner are ya'?"

"Shove off, you're just jealous." The other boys caught up soon enough with Bon laughing at his mates' disgust.

"You're such a wanker, Bon."

"It wasn't lookin' to hurt ya'," he responded.

"No, but you were," Phil said setting his water bottle down on the railing. "There's got to be rules that say you can't toss a snake onto a man's shoulders in the exhibit or somethin'. A big sign or somethin'." Angus' koala held on his shoulder with one hand, her claws lightly poking his shoulder while her other hand reached up to his head. "An' you get kicked out forever if you do."

"Hey, what are you doin'? Stop that," Angus said. The koala's baby bottle was of no interest to her, and she instead made a grab at Angus' hair. "Hey, knock it off!"

"Lucky I didn't get caught," Bon smiled cheekily.

"Lucky it didn't wrap around your neck. You had like three of them on you at once," Malcolm pointed out.

"You didn't have to stay to watch, you're a grown man."

"It was funny seein' Phil get scared," he laughed. Phil gave him a light shove.

"I was not scared."

"Ow, hey, what are you doin'?" Angus asked the koala, who now had a handful of Angus' hair in her grasp. "Let go, let go!"

"Screamed like a little girl."

"Did not!" While fighting about whether or not Phil had actually let out a feminine yell, they ignored the real panic induced screams of the man beside them. Angus had to set the baby bottle down on the railing so he could attempt at using both hands to free himself.

"Ow, okay guys? She's really got me over here, I could use some help!"

"I saw the bloke runnin' the place laugh at you, Phil, he heard you loud an' clear," Cliff testified. Phil grabbed a bottle off the railing and slid his other hand in his pocket.

"Fuck him, then. He doesn't know what he heard."

"Ouch! Mal, I could use a hand here!" Malcolm turned to see his brother bent over, one arm around the koala, the other gently pulling on her steel iron grip. A good chunk of hair was deeply clenched.

"Oh, how sweet, she really does like you." The camera was held at a reasonable distance. "Smile!" Angus was able to remove his hand for a split second for the picture, even if only to give his brother a loving finger.

 

"We'll see you all in a few weeks," Malcolm said holding his side of the car door open. Angus sulked in the passenger seat, holding his hat close over his head. Now that koala had something most fans would kill for, and he would never live this down.

"Bye, Mal. Bye, Ang," Cliff waved. Angus grumbled to himself and buckled his seatbelt. Bon took a seat on his motorcycle and waited until Malcolm and most of Angus had driven out of the way before he left. Cliff and Phil had each taken separate cars so they gave a small farewell to the other before departing.

Opening the backdoor of his car, Phil tossed the bottle inside, then made his way to the front to check for something in his glove box. While he was swimming upside down in registration forms, letters, and speeding tickets, a small grey mammal came loping through the parking lot, her target in line of sight. Distracted by the insults of his vocal range Phil hadn't paid attention to which bottle he grabbed. A few minutes of fruitless searching later, Phil muttered, "Screw it," and closed up the glove box. The backdoor was closed as well and he was on his way out. It wasn't until he got home that he noticed something off through his rearview mirror.

Cliff returned to his house safely. Hanging his jacket up he made a trip to the cabinets and pulled out a glass, pouring his best wine. The rain had picked up some but not enough to drown out the sound of his Beatles record spinning under the needle. It had been a good tour while it lasted though it was good to settle down for a much needed vacation. He took a seat in his armchair by the window and watched the rain pour down the pane. His fireplace, although empty, was accompanied by a log ready to be burned. Warm socks covered his feet which slipped and slid in his hardwood kitchen. It was good to be home.

His comfort was traded for clumsiness as he hurried to pick up his ringing phone. One hand balanced the glass of wine, nearly dropping it when he tripped over the coffee table. Three rings later and he answered. "Hello?"

"...Cliff?"

"Phil?"

"Y-yeah."

"Hey mate, what's goin' on over there?" Phil hadn't answered in the usual quick wit style. His voice croaked, like a prepubescent frog. Cliff waited a few minutes for an answer. "Rudd? You still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm still here." Another pause. "I think it's still here too." Cliff narrowed his eyes and took a drink.

"What's still there?"

"It's takin' up my car an' I'm afraid to get it out by myself. Its claws could kill."

"Phil, you're not makin' any sense, what's up your ass?" Cliff sat down by the coffee table on the couch waiting for a response. "Phil?"

"Remember when you said if I needed help with any stray?"

"Yeah..."

"...does that offer still stand?"


	6. Open

Freezing rain beat mercilessly against the yellow raincoat making its way down the street; ashen with fog. It was supposed to be snow. However, as the young girl had hardly more than sneakers on her feet, she was thankful not to walk in the result of a blizzard.

The staircase leading up to her apartment had never seemed steeper, and she slipped more than once on the ice. Gripping the rail in one hand, a damp envelope in the other, she reached the top and hurried to find her door. The key couldn't turn the lock quick enough, the girl sighing in frustration, tired of sitting through the day's unfortunate events. Rain pouring on her head made it all worse. Finally the door opened, and was slammed with vexation.

The envelope was clutched in both hands as she sat against the wall. A slit carved the top in an earlier read, but the contents were taken out again just to be sure. Black ink scribbled a greeting at the top, an apology for the inconvenience, and a list too long describing the issues presented. The words were exactly the same as before, and would be exactly the same next time she read them. Her eyes glistened at, "...terminated effective immediately", and, "...for committing company personnel and resources to a client..." The client was a poor woman, in need of a place to rent for the night before she could claim her paycheck the next day, and pay for gasoline to drive up to a friend's house. She had all the politeness and manners of a kind woman, and never once raised her voice when things were going slow. The young girl couldn't help but feel empathy, and arrange her a room in a nearby apartment. In a hurry to leave work she left her paperwork behind on her desk for her boss to find and look over. The transactions between the two were frowned upon, the company having lost around thirty four dollars. It wasn't much, she thought. When confronted she offered to cover the difference but he wouldn't hear of it. She was told beforehand not to assist this woman, and maybe give her a card to a company that would. By tomorrow morning she would be looking around for a new job, one that didn't discourage helping the less fortunate due to having a good heart.

The energy exerted on closing the door brought attention to another resident. The young man came out from the kitchen looking around before he saw his girlfriend sitting on the floor. "Everything okay?"

The letter and envelope were tucked away like lightning, and the young girl stood up with a teary smile. "Everything is great, Cliff," she answered sniffing. "Sorry, I-didn't mean to slam it."

"Thought maybe we were getting broken into or somethin'," Cliff added with a smile. He held a napkin in his left hand.

"You sure took your time getting here."

"Well, it was a second guess thought, I figured it was you, Keiko." The girl stood from the floor and followed her boyfriend out to the kitchen, where he sat at the table. "Besides, I was eating." Keiko opened the fridge and took out the milk, pouring herself a glass. Cliff had his dinner for two all spread out, the plate on the other side of the table getting cold.

"I'm so sorry for being late, there was-" She stopped short. What could she tell him about her day that wouldn't upset him? Getting called late after work, getting lectured at by her boss only to be fired shortly after. That wasn't what her boyfriend needed to hear, not on his birthday.

"Traffic on the stairs?" the man laughed. She cracked a small smile, one that quickly vanished. "I'm sure it's nothing serious, I should have waited a while. Your hours are unpredictable, of course, no one knows that better than you..." He began to ramble. Keiko watched him, unable to interrupt him, as she smiled. He was the best thing to come into her life. Full of charm and character, always something comical to say. Sure he had his faults, and she no less of her own. But they each accepted them, and never a day had they loved each other any less. The most difficult times they made it out, hand in hand. Keiko decided this day shouldn't be any different. "...anyway. So. How was work?"

She approached the table with her milk glass in hand. "Tiring. Uninspiring." Firing, she thought to herself. Cliff laughed.

"When isn't it? Here, come sit over here, my food is still warm." She hesitantly made her way over and was pulled on his lap. A fork was soon in his hand. "Here, you can have mine."

"But my plate-"

"Is cold and unnecessary, I was just about done. The rest is for you." They shared a smile and the fork was speared into the food and held up to her lips. "Alright, open."

"You don't have to feed me, I'm not a baby, you know," she reminded with shock.

"No, but you can think better if I do the fork work. If today was a bad day, you need to get it all off your chest. So." He lightly tapped her lips with the fork making her smile. Slowly she opened her mouth and took the food. "Now. What happened?"

"You see, there was a client yesterday in need of a place to stay."

"Naturally."

"Yes, and it was only for one night. Just one night, and she would have left before the sun came up."

"Right," Cliff answered. "So you helped her out, of course?"

"Y-yes," she answered slowly. "When no one offered to help her, from command of our boss, I took her aside and arranged a stay for her at one of our local apartments."

"Good for you! Open."

"Well," she started, as she chewed her food. "It appears...my boss...found out." Cliff raised an eyebrow at her.

"Why should it mean a pinch to him?" Keiko sighed and wrung her hands together. "If I was him, I'd give you a raise for taking a stand."

"He, he was pretty mad," she explained. "I mean it was his orders that we shouldn't help her, and I kind of broke those orders..."

"That's my girl. Open." Keiko didn't speak this time until she was done. "What'd he do then, yell at ya'?"

"Yes. He did."

"You've got the most selfless heart of any woman, love, I'm proud of ya', even if he isn't. To hell with him then, yeah?" Keiko could feel the tears escape from her eyes. If there was ever a time to tell the truth, this was it. A shaky hand reached into her pocket and her small fingers gripped the envelope. A moment's worth of thought passed...and she let go of the envelope. With a sigh she removed her hand and took her milk glass instead. Cliff deserved to hear the truth from her, not from a paper written by a coward.

"There's-there's something...something else too," she murmured. Cliff moved a lock of her hair behind her ear and gazed at her face. "I...I've been let off."

At first Cliff didn't know whether to laugh or not, thinking this was all a joke. A birthday prank, Keiko was notorious for those. But seeing the remorse sparkle in her eyes was enough to convince him that this was truth. She watched him, waiting for a response. "Didn't you hear me? I said I've been-"

"I heard you, I heard you," he assured so she wouldn't have to repeat it. He brushed a hand over his head and sighed. "You okay?"

"Fine, I guess, I mean I'm not happy I've been let off but-"

"No one is, but...you'll find another one. A better one. One that doesn't reject a poor client from a rich one. One built for you, one that can take on a heart as good as yours and doesn't resort to letting them go because of one silly rule broken-"

"Cliff! You're rambling again," Keiko giggled wiping her eyes. The man blinked at her.

"I am? Oh, sorry. They give you your last check?"

"I'm going in next Wednesday," she replied. "Taking my check, my belongings, and my pride with me."

"Good on ya', love. We'll make this work. Open." As Keiko opened her mouth, just a small way, instead of lifting the fork to her lips, Cliff leaned in and kissed her. Taken by surprise she gripped the table next to her so she wouldn't fall off his lap. He smiled, knowing his little trick worked. Eventually she relaxed and rested her hands on his shoulders, forgetting about the events of the day. After a minute they pulled apart. The sparkle in Keiko's eyes had returned, this time her usual cheerful self, with Cliff's smile to match.

"Happy birthday," Keiko remembered. She was pulled into a hug, resting her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. Two arms wrapped around her. The rain pounded on the roof like bullets, but neither one really noticed.

"Thank you, love. Now, let's have at that birthday cake."


	7. Damned

Never, not once in three years the boys had been living there, had the attic been cleaned. It was understandable, as no one had any clue the attic even existed. It was a small room in the ceiling on the second floor, accessible by a cord dangling above their heads. Assuming it was a cord to a light fixture, no one pulled it; the windows lining the hallways were enough. But when the band needed a spare place to store some instruments when the guest room got too full, Malcolm suggested they haul some equipment upstairs to the extra closet. Only an amp or two with spare snares here and there. Phil and Angus began to wish it were the small amps that were selected to be stored away, as the constant angle they held it against themselves proved worse than it looked when taken up twenty steep stairs.

"Jus' one step after another, eh?"

"Shuttup, Mal, or this one's on your head," Phil answered. The drummer's back was turned on Malcolm, luckily for both of them they couldn't see the faces they made each other. Angus adjusted his hold on the amp, his fingers underneath sliding slightly to the right, making the object tilt toward the banister, and caught at the last second. "Careful!"

"I'm bein' as careful as can be!" Phil shook his head and sighed.

"How many steps left, Cliff?" Malcolm stood in front of Cliff blocking his view, and counted the remaining obstacles himself.

"Mmm, about three for you, six for Ang."

"Is your name Cliff?"

"Jus' answering your question, Rudd, don't piss all over me," Malcolm defended. Bon slid a hand in his leather jacket, the other hand grabbing the cord on the ceiling. "We're movin' some drums o' yours up here too, and...I might just drop one."

"Hey, Mal, lay off of him," Bon said with a smirk on his face. His eyes were colored with humor. "Don't taunt a man with a heavy object an' your brother on the other end." Malcolm scoffed and leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers on the chipping paint.

"Yeah? He's gonna get after Ang for something I said?"

"Don't test him, Mal, he's giving me the evil eye," Angus said as he pushed the amp forward.

"Relax, the lot of you, I'm not gonna do anything." Phil took another step up the stairs, only one more left. As soon as he reached the top he made his way around the corner while Angus followed, finally setting the amp down on flat ground. Straightening himself out, he mumbled, "Not with an audience around me."

"Where's all this goin'?" Cliff asked, joining the group. "No way the closet's big enough for all we're puttin' in."

"If it can fit the five of us, it can fit a few bits and pieces." Malcolm surveyed the amp in front of him, both carriers glad of the break, however short Malcolm allowed it to be. He'd seen bigger, but perhaps it was someone else's turn to haul it a distance. "Alright," he said standing up. "Cliff, come here."

"We're done?" Phil asked out of surprise.

"For now, yes. Cliff, you grab that side..." With the same balance on either side as the last pair, the amp was leveled off between them and met the air again. Phil gladly stepped out of their way, standing beside a sore Angus with a smile. "Bon, open the door, would ya'?" The door to the closet was at the end of the hall, giving the men plenty of time for the following events to unfold.

"Alright, my turn to help out," Bon said leaning from the cord in his grasp. It seemed to support his weight well, and it didn't surprise him to see the hallway just as bright as it was that morning, for the lights on the second story were surely old and never replaced. When a pressing weight on his shoulders from behind knocked him forward, however, the shock was more than he could suppress.

"What are you doin'?" Malcolm gasped out as Bon's body collided with the rather heavy object. His weight was added to the mix, and Cliff stumbled backwards, arms tightening around the amp.

"Fuck!"

"The hell are you doin'?" Malcolm asked again. His voice had regained firmness, and he used it against the man making their job noticeably more difficult.

"Somethin' gave out!"

"You didn't rip the ceiling out, did ya'?" Bon struggled to stand up but when he did, all eyes were on the damage behind him. The tugging of the cord peeled out a square of the ceiling, a hole of darkness in its place. Whether it was dust or the tiniest of bugs pouring like traffic, no one could tell. A wooden ladder slid from the removed patch of ceiling, striking the carpet beneath. It was narrow, and the steps looked barely enough to support a foot. "Holy fuck, you did."

"What's up there?" Angus asked, squeezing his way through the group to see.

"Dunno...we might have a look up there, yeah? C'mon, who's got a flashlight?" One by one the men shook their heads to show their lack of a light source. Malcolm grabbed the ladder with both hands, stomping his foot on the first step to check its hold. Satisfied with the wood still holding and no splinters in his ankle, he continued up.

"You jus' goin' up?" Bon asked.

"Yep."

"What if there's no light up there? You can't see!" Malcolm reached the top, feeling around for any switches. A yellow glow blinded him for a moment, giving him a smile in reply to Phil's comment. "Wait, Mal, we're comin'." Phil grabbed a hold of the ladder and followed.

"Gettin' out of work, that's what I like to hear," Bon said going next. "Job well done for me."

"Nearly squashed us, Bon," Cliff reminded.

"Eh, what's a little weight on ya'? Won't kill ya'." Phil's sneaker kicked out mere inches from his face. Bon grinned anyway. "Who knows? Might turn ya' into a diamond."

"Good one. Hey, you comin' Angus?" Cliff looked down to see Angus sitting on the amp, rolling his shoulder, holding his arm.

"Give me a minute, Phil did somethin' to my arm." He winced as the nerves awakened like a stampede. "...I think he broke my arm!"

"Ya' pulled a muscle, Ang, write a complaint. Maybe Mal can give ya' worker's comp." By the time Cliff had entered the yellow room, Malcolm had already explored every inch, the gears in his brain turning. Phil stood to the side, next to a stack of boxes, arms crossed. Bon walked around the room, stomping his foot in case the floor wasn't sturdy enough for the four of them. He made his way to Phil, stomping his foot extra hard. With a sigh he was pushed away.

"Piss off," Phil muttered.

"This like an attic or somethin'?" Cliff asked looking around. Malcolm didn't answer, being lost in his own little world. Cliff turned his head to Bon who shrugged.

"It would appear so. A very well hidden attic." Phil, after the strength of pushing Bon forward pushed him backward, had stumbled into the boxes, gently moving one out of line with the rest of the tower. Making sure they didn't crash to the ground, the top box was removed and placed on the floor, the others soon following. Their tops were covered by brown tape sealing them shut. His fingernails pathetically picked at them hoping he might scratch a bit off and see the contents inside. They were heavy enough that surely something must be inside them. With nothing more than a dent in the tape, he left them alone. Bon's foot stomped past him again, grinning when he saw Angus emerge from the hole in the ground.

"The fuck's goin' on up here, who's the elephant?" Bon reached a hand down grabbing Angus', and practically lifted the man in the air before setting him down again like a rag doll.

"It's a ballsy thing for a mouse like you to call someone like me an' elephant," Bon said, backing the man into a corner. Angus jumped when his back collided with Phil, who had stood up to block Angus from running away. "Jus' makin' sure the floor can handle another body."

"Uh, Phil, can you lend a hand here?" Phil clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"I'm stayin' on Bon's side this time, I'm playin' it safe."

"Mal, they're harrassin' me!...Mal!"

"Oi! Lads, I dunno what you're doin' over there but it's breakin' my train of thought, can ya' keep it down?" Angus fell to the floor with a thud, Phil grabbing his arms, Bon grabbing his legs. "Don't throw Angus too hard, yeah?"

"No problem, jus' takin' out the trash." Despite Angus' stubborn squirming to break loose, their grips would not falter. Angus had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, especially when Phil started tickling his ribs. Stepping aside to gain some quiet on the other side of the room, Cliff joined Malcolm on his survey.

"We've been livin' here, what. Three years? An' we just find out about an attic?"

"Well, what'd you think was up here?" Cliff thought for a moment and laughed.

"Certainly not an attic. We turnin' it into a casino up here?"

"The day we fit a card table up here an' a bar is the day I move in," Malcolm said, tongue in cheek. "Nah, we're puttin' the equipment up here."

"Puttin' up eighty five pounds of amps up here above our heads?" Malcolm giggled through his teeth. "You sure you thought this through?"

"Bon checked the flooring, if it can hold him, it can hold anything." His cheeks turned red when the man in question approached them, he and Phil having let Angus roam free. The guitarist had found a beanbag chair and made himself comfortable.

"Jus' 'cause you're all a bunch of grasshoppers doesn't make me Farmer Brown," he said leaning on a crossbeam. "I pulled a piece of the ceiling off one time, no big deal."

"You've found us a treasure chest, mate." Malcolm slapped the crossbeam above him regretting it instantly as a sliver injected his skin. Grabbing the wood and ignoring the pain, he continued. "An empty chest, but a chest all the same."

"No gold?"

"Aw, nothin' to bet with in the casino," Cliff said, snapping his fingers.

"Nah, we're fillin' it up," Malcolm said. Bon raised an eyebrow.

"Mal wants to move the equipment here," Cliff explained. Upon hearing the words 'move' and 'equipment' in one sentence, Phil rushed over to the group.

"It's Bon's turn, now ain't it?" he asked. "Or we gettin' a roadie to do it?"

"Buck up, Rudd, we can all pitch in. First we gotta clean up around here. There's space but not much of it. We need everything in here out."

"Can't it wait till tomorrow, Mal?" Angus asked, curling up in the beanbag chair. His nail scratched at a piece of thread that poked out the side. "I'm fine right where I am."

"You can move that chair out of here if you want. Stick it in your room. I need everyone's help with this." Phil made a face of suspicion.

"And who's the maid of honor, hmm? Who will be the lucky bastard to lug the shit up the steps?" Malcolm glanced around the room, seeing a forefinger atop everyone's nose. Turning back to Phil, he grinned seeing he hadn't caught on, and touched his finger to his nose as well. Phil noticed the sly trickery his band mates carried among them. He scoffed. "No, get someone else."

"Come on, Rudd-"

"Get. Someone. Else." Malcolm spread his arms, then dropped them to his sides.

"At least put the snares away, the cymbals an' all that."

"I'll help clean up, I'll start with the boxes or somethin'."

"So you'll lug somethin' down," Bon started, "but you won't lug anything up." The drummer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers reaching a knot and accidentally pulling out a few strands. Dropping them in disgust, he sighed.

"Look, Ang an' I already hauled the monster up to the second floor, alright? We're done. It's someone else's turn."

"He's right, Mal," Angus said from his beanbag. "You and Cliff were takin' up the liftin', till Bon decided to stage dive in your path." Bon removed the finger from his nose and used his middle one to send him a friendly gesture from the other side of the room. Subtle enough so the shorter man didn't see it, but he figured he'd earned one. "Besides. It was your idea."

Malcolm surveyed the group once more and saw each of them nodding their heads. Phil even had a smile on his face, sticking his tongue out like a snake. "Alright, Cliff an' I can do a part. You alright with that, Cliff?"

"I am if you are," he agreed.

"Then it's settled," Malcolm said. "Phil? You said you were clearin' out boxes, Bon you can grab a duster an' make the space clean for our stuff, an' Angus...take care of that chair of yours."

Bon whistled as he walked out of the attic, down the ladder to find something to clean with. Cliff joked with Malcolm about getting some uniforms to wear while they worked, and romance novels to read during breaks. Waiting for his feet to touch the floor of the ladder, Phil had in his mind a mission to find some scissors, and explore what was in those boxes. The men weren't fortunate enough to meet the previous owners, and as first time guests to the third floor, it was a guessing game.

Fifteen minutes of cleaning did the small room a world of good. The walls, although still a stained yellow, were dust free, the only particles left were stuck in their noses, leaving them blasting each other in the face. Phil contented himself by staying in the corner, the scissors slicing through the tape like air. The smell was something else, collapsing through the top of the box and filling the room.

"Oh, shit..." Malcolm said.

"That just might be the case," Angus gagged, backing himself away from the smell.

"Alright, who did it?" Cliff asked. No one was willing to answer to a question so personal. And a trifle embarrassing. "Come on, we're all lads here."

"Would you lot calm down? It's jus' this box here, nothin' to shit the bed over," Phil laughed to himself. Malcolm stepped over his project to see what Phil was up to. The scissors lay on the floor next to a ball of tape, the box open.

"What are you doin' over here, makin' a mess we have to clean up?"

"I'm searchin' around a bit, seein' what was left behind. Those boxes are heavy, Mal, there's nothin' trivial about 'em." Malcolm knelt down to pry open the box flap a bit, then wrinkle his nose.

"Pawn 'em off as soon as you can, my life's flashin'." Malcolm returned to Cliff's side as they both took it upon themselves to mop the floors. A hand from behind tapped on his shoulder, and he was met with two puppy eyes. "What do you want, Angus?"

"Can I keep the beanbag, Mal?"

"You want it?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I can stick it in my room, like you said."

"I was sort of kiddin', Ang."

"Aw, what about when I have a girl over, huh? And there's too much room on the bed?" Malcolm snorted out his nose, spit landing on the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off with the back of his hand.

"You're an animal, Ang. Go ahead an' take it, I don't care what you do with it-" Angus turned and grabbed it, throwing it over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. "-as long as it's out of here."

"Woah," Phil breathed, as he pulled different items out of the box. The first one was filled with old clothes. Some papers were wedged among and between them, and he threw those out. A poorly stitched, dented fedora with a hole on top came out first, then tossed aside. Next was a long white gown, lace covering the sleeves and bodice. The bottom was beaded up and the shoulders had once been puffed to perfection. He examined this article a bit more closely, wondering if the white had been whiter years before they moved. "Someone get Dave up here, tell him I've got a little present for him."

Bon turned his head to see the smile on Phil's face and the dress in his fingers. With a cackle and a snort, he dropped the spray bottle in his hands and grabbed the attention of Malcolm and Cliff, who also succumbed to the joke. Angus had just returned, seeing the dress in Phil's grasp, yet missing the original joke. So he made his own.

"Oi, Rudd, you have a hobby you didn't tell us about?" Just when everyone thought the laughter had died down it exploded. Phil only smiled and kicked Angus away, folding the dress back up and placing the fedora on top of it. A brown jacket was pulled out next, a hand reaching in the pockets. Finding nothing, he tossed it aside.

"If all that's in here is old clothes, I'm gonna be very upset."

"Hopin' to find a money bag in there or somethin'?" Bon asked coming over. He sat on the other side of the box, grabbing a different one and the scissors. The tape was slit in half, the scissors set aside.

"Jus' somethin' cool. A sword or somethin'."

"Like I'd trust any of you fuckers with a sword," Malcolm said setting the mop down. "A letter opener is bad enough. Remember, Angus? The cut you gave me, the one I still have?"

"Your finger?" he asked. "Oh, you're fine." Malcolm shook his head and the two joined the collection on the floor, Cliff's interest arising as well. "You had Mum kiss it better, an' I got a scoldin'."

"A wooden spoon, Ang. I know that for a fact, I watched from behind the door. Nursin' my poor finger."

"You want a new finger so bad? Then by all means, take one of mine," Angus laughed, sticking his middle one in between his brother's eyes. It was shoved away along with a punch on the shoulder. "What's in that one, Bon?"

Metal figures and glass vases were taken out of the second box, each one handed off to the group to see closer. The figures were rusty, the vases filled with cobwebs and dead insects. One was chipped, and the boys were careful to make sure everything got placed back in the box, lest someone sit on something they shouldn't. Angus grabbed a box for himself and ripped the tape off with sudden strength. "Damn, Godzilla over there," Cliff muttered. The tape was crumpled up with only a slight trouble, and tossed at his head. "Thought you pulled a muscle."

"I did," Angus replied. "I jus' heal quickly. Hell, these boxes reek!"

"No less than you," Bon teased getting a tongue stuck out at him. The flaps were pulled apart revealing a yellow and brown bed sheet. The box was tossed over Angus' shoulder landing a meter away from him. "Is that a sheet?"

"Think so...a gross one. Here-" Angus unfolded the cloth till its condensed size expanded to fit around a bed, and he adjusted it over his head. He swam in it, the fabric tips touching the floor, every inch of him hidden. "-how do I look?"

"You're sure spooking me, Ang," Bon said. "I might not sleep at night lookin' at you."

"Piss off, someone give me a real opinion." Angus' voice was muffled from the thick sheet. He could see light through the stitching, but clear images were impossible.

"You gonna put that on your beanbag?" Cliff smiled. "Give your girl somethin' to sleep under?"

"No way, she'd never sleep in my room again." A clear, kitten sneeze came from under the sheet. "God, this thing stinks."

"Gives her all the more reason to sleep in your bed, Ang," Malcolm said. "You're a real ghost."

"Eh." The sheet was pulled off, rolled up and tossed behind him landing on the box. "More of a devil myself."

"Not a handsome one. Phil, how many more boxes?" Phil looked up at Malcolm then back to the box on his lap.

"This is the last one, I think..." The scissors had a bit of trouble cutting through the tape this time, and he had to make a few detours. With the cardboard all shredded up, he set the scissors down and opened it up. Now this was the box he was looking for.

A purple cloth rested on top, completely covering whatever was underneath. It wasn't till he pulled it off that he saw why it was necessary. The objects inside didn't have much shine, but instead gave off a thin luster that was just as beautiful if not more. They were gold; or that is to say, a dark bronze. A few closer to the bottom were more copper. Small cups and pots were passed among the group of men, fascinated in what their real estate agent didn't remind the sellers to take with them. Small ones fit inside large, like an ancient collection of Russian nesting dolls.

"I'd drink my tea outta this," Angus said passing a smooth cup to Cliff who turned it over in his hand.

"This one? Mmm, I prefer the uh..." His eyes scanned the group. "the one Mal's got, the one with the beading on the rim."

"That's good too. This one's got beading on the handle though..." Phil had taken out the last cup to reveal another purple cloth. Soon that too was taken away.

"Oh man..."

"What?"

Phil took out a small box, just a small, ordinary brown box. Inside were rectangular cards with the most intricate designs front and back. The backs were all the same. The front of each however, had its own little picture painted on. One had a large green lizard, with a tongue of fire sticking out. Another had a fair woman with wings like a dove on her back. She seemed to be holding something. The third showed another woman, this one of lustful purposes. She donned a red flowing dress while two butterfly wings sprouted behind her. Still another woman was displayed on a card, her arms crossed and a striped wrap on her head. The final card was scary to look at with a face to stare right back at you. It was a mask with plump lips and dark sockets for eyes. The eyebrows were arched and almost covered by the purple vines swirling on the background. The mask was smiling.

"What...is that?" Malcolm asked getting a good look. The cards were handed off to him, his view partially blocked by Angus who didn't want to be the last to see them. "Move over, Ang, I can't see."

"I wanna see too."

"Here." The cards were split in half. "You can have two, I'll take these three."

"Hey hey, lovely ladies on these ones," Angus said with a grin to match the mask card in Malcolm's hand.

"Hand 'em up, let's see." Bon took them and grinned as wide as the guitarist. "Well well now, one for both of us here."

"I'll take that blonde one if ya' don't mind," Angus said pointing to the one with the white wings. Bon nodded in approval.

"Good pick, but I've always wanted a woman in red, who can take me to bed." The group laughed as Bon fanned himself with the preferred card and they were passed down. "What'd you get, Mal?"

"This one has a sheila too, but a bit old for my taste. From Egypt or somethin'. Here, Bon, this one's got you written all over it."

"Aw, a dragon! One arm up ready to grab my lady in crimson-oh, he's havin' a bit of trouble with that arm, it ain't even attached to the rest of him!" He showed it to Cliff and Angus behind him. "Look, it's jus' floatin' there!"

"This one freaks me out," Malcolm said handing off the last card. "A mask or somethin'."

"Har-lee-quinn," Bon enunciated as he read the top. "'True feelings are masked.' Oh, they all got writing on 'em. He sure looks like you, Phil."

Phil looked up from his search and scoffed as Bon waved the card in his hand, handing it back to Malcolm. What else he had found in that box was nothing he could have guessed. Amber stones with foreign markings, several pairs of dice, and a palm sized black figure that looked like a lantern. "We had weirdos livin' before us," Phil stated.

"Lucky for them we're weirdos ourselves," Bon replied looking inside the box as well. "Those rocks have letters on 'em?"

"Nah, they're markings. Or pictures, can't tell. Oh, fuck!"

Every head was turned. "What?"

"Fuck, look at this!" Phil saw a wooden board at the bottom of the box underneath the strange novelties. It wasn't heavy nor was it light. When he flipped it over, his suspicions were confirmed.

The top corners were decorated with a sun on the left one, a moon on the right. The words 'yes' and 'no' followed after them. Below in calligraphic designs was an arch of all twenty six letters of the alphabet. Basic numbers were underneath that, with the word 'goodbye' still to follow. The bottom corners each had a black star on them. Five pairs of eyes were as wide as the mask's.

"Ain't that one of those...what are they called. Spirit boards?" Bon asked.

"Ouija," Cliff answered. "I guess both names work...that was in there with all of this?"

"Right here at the bottom." Phil inspected the board in his hands. The wood was in no way new, but in no way broken or unusable either. "Now this...is what we've been searchin' for, gentlemen."

"You were lookin' for that? Some haunted piece of wood to conjure demons?" Cliff asked raising an eyebrow. Phil's nail picked at a chip in the bottom. "This attic is probably possessed now."

"You don't really believe all that stuff." Cliff tilted his head back and forth and looked at Bon. Bon blew air out his lips and patted his knee, fiddling with the dragon card. He looked at Angus. Angus put his hands behind his back while slipping the card of the winged blonde in his back pocket and rocked back and forth on his sneakers. Without a word, he looked at Malcolm. Malcolm had stood there, staring at the mask card. Its sockets of black stared back at him, a weird sensation traveling up his hand and into his fingers. He had to force himself to look elsewhere. Phil scoffed. "You're bloody kidding."

"Oh, you're so brave, you're so intelligent not to fall for these tricks, let's see you mess around with it, huh? Call up some demons, Phil. What are you afraid of?" Bon asked with a challenging glare.

"I'm too skeptical to conjure, they'll just ignore me." Phil leaned back in his spot against a wooden beam. "Like a prank call."

"You're chicken."

"Not true."

"Then call up some demons." Bon shoved the Ouija board at Phil's chest, the wood hitting his rib. "Call up a succubus an' take her on a date."

"If you're so interested, why don't you do it yourself?" Phil glared right back. "Call up Miss Floozy on that card of yours an' take her on a date."

"I already have earned the paranormal respect, you however, are bein' a chicken."

"I'm not. A chicken!"

"Bawk, bawk, bagawk!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up!" Malcolm yelled. The card he possessed was clenched tightly in his hand, almost bending it. Bon glanced over at him, then back at Phil who searched the floor. "Look, we came up here to clean, an' now this place is a mess more than it was. We don't have time to fuck around with a Ouija board, we have an amp downstairs unattended."

"And Phil's snares," Angus added. Malcolm nodded.

"An' Phil's snares. Now before we do anything else this place needs to be cleaned up and the equipment needs to get taken care of. You hear me, Bon? There will be no rituals or summons until our work is done." Bon laughed through his teeth.

"Fine by me. Okay with you, Rudd?" Phil's eyes had never looked darker. He almost wished he had never found the stupid board, being as nosy as he was. "Malcolm's waitin' for an answer, Ruddy."

"You're a fuckin' psycho." He abruptly stood up, the box shoved aside, the board falling to the floor. His figure disappeared from the room as he climbed down the ladder, making himself busy with his snares he was ordered to carry. Malcolm sighed, he and Cliff heading over to the wall where they set their mops. Bon stood from the floor and grinned at Angus, who had been observing uneasily, and headed toward the back of the room. The footsteps' increase in volume was uncomfortable enough, but the only other direction was down the ladder with Phil. His work upstairs done, he chose risking running into the pissed off drummer in the hallway.

He made it to the first floor in a minute or two. Right around the corner by the kitchen he walked into Phil who stumbled backward. "Jesus Christ, Ang." Angus just stood there, lips slightly parted, a small frown in his eyes. Phil stood there in front of him, a stack of snare drums in his arms. The silence between them was suffocating. "Well, you gonna watch where you're goin', or what?" Phil said walking past him.

"Hey, Phil. Let me ask you somethin'." Angus followed him into the kitchen. Phil set the drums down on the counter and opened the fridge, pulling out numerous ingredients. A bag of bread with only three slices left was tossed next to a jar of mayonnaise and another jar of mustard. A head of lettuce rolled next to a block of cheese and a sharp knife was set next to a bright, red tomato. Angus licked his lips.

"Shoot."

"You're not-really skeptical, over all this. Are you?" Two slices of bread were placed on the counter, Phil opening the jar of mustard. A thick layer was spread on one side.

"You're not-really a sucker for that talk." Phil's tongue grazed over the knife catching the mustard. "Are you?"

Angus scoffed. "No."

"You gonna be first to call up a spirit? Talk to one, ask it some random generic questions then be impressed with nothing? Be fascinated with bullshit?" The mayonnaise was opened next. Angus watched the knife dip into the jar.

"No."

"Bon would. He will. He's excited."

"You were too when you found the stupid board," Angus frowned. "Maybe Bon was right." The mayonnaise was set back in the fridge. "Maybe you are a chicken."

"Chicken," Phil repeated staring at the ceiling. "Chicken, that sounds good. We have any?" He bent down to search from the bottom shelf to the top.

"I'm not a fan of it either you know," Angus said. "Callin' up the dead ain't really my idea of a good time." Phil's fingers tapped the fridge door. "Bon ate the last of it."

"Figures." The door was slammed closed. "Bon has the balls to call me a chicken when he's full of it." The head of lettuce was grabbed and shredded instead. Angus watched each leaf fall on the bread, two for each piece. Back in the fridge it went. "Just have this instead. Vegetarian style."

"I'm not lookin' forward to it either," Angus repeated. Phil heard him that time. "Talkin' to spirits, feelin' like there's somethin' behind you...it answerin' back."

"An' you believe it." Phil shook his head as he reached for the knife on the counter. The tomato met its demise and the slices were messily thrown on the lettuce, juice soaking the counter top. "You're jus' like 'em. Believin' in all the hocus pocus when there's nothin' to be afraid of."

"If you're not afraid then prove it," Angus said. Phil stared at him. His hand hovered over the block of cheese but he set it down. Angus walked around the counter to see him fully. "If there's nothin' to be afraid of, then prove it. Prove it to Bon that you're not a chicken."

"I don't have to prove anything to that psycho."

"He doesn't believe in any of that shit either, you think he does? He's not afraid to do it, but he knows nothin' will happen."

"So why's he pickin' on me, eh? Needs fresh meat every now an' then?" With a sigh Angus shrugged. "That fucker can jus' leave me alone."

The cheese was picked up and carved into with the knife. The smell reached Angus' nose and he sighed again. The meal before him was colorful, fresh, and in a way, healthy. Malcolm used to make him sandwiches when they were kids going off to school. He'd make him peanut butter and jelly, while leaving all the turkey meat and cheese for himself. Not to mention Angus' lack of fondness for jelly and the peanut butter reaching its expiration date. The bread was a story all its own. "He's not gonna let up," Angus said backing away. "I should know, he picks on me every day."

"That's 'cause you're his little buddy," Phil spat. "He teases you, but it's all in good fun. An' he knows you won't tattle to Mal on him, not that Mal would do anything anyway. Bon an' I, we're not so close."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Oh it's quite simple really." Phil set the knife down. "See, here is Bon." He picked up a pepper shaker and set it on the counter. "He's up here on stage, in the front. Singin' his ass off. An' this," he grabbed a salt shaker. "this is me. Waaayyyy in the back." He popped his lips as he set it down. "Playin' the drums, keepin' the beat, stayin' far away from him." Angus frowned, watching Phil struggle to piece his sandwich together. "Both of you...you're havin' fun front an' center."

"Phil, you're our drummer, our stage positions have nothin' to do with it."

"Even then," Phil interrupted. "Aside all the silliness and shit of the band, Bon an' I...we ain't as close. We ain't as close as you an' I, or you an' him." Angus shrugged.

"You get along."

"We get along sure, but lately there's been some disagreein' between us two. A couple disputes."

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed," Angus mumbled. "C'mon, you guys are still close, it's just a few unlucky months-"

"About a year now," he said. "One long, and one very unlucky year. I used to miss havin' good times with you all while I sit in back but now..." The sandwich was sloppily hugged in his hands, bits and pieces falling out the sides. "I'm glad I get a break from him." Right at that moment Angus covered his stomach with his arms, attempting to hide the massive roar it gave.

"Uh...that wasn't me," he mumbled. With a smile Phil grabbed the knife off the counter and set the sandwich down, cutting it in half. A messy piece was given to Angus who took it with two hands.

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Thanks," Angus said. Taking their lunches with them to the second floor and the steps of the attic, they had the ill luck of meeting Bon at the base. He grinned with his teeth, a saunter in his steps. Angus looked at Phil, a piece of lettuce getting stuck in his teeth. He turned away to fix it letting the other men hold their staring contest.

"Havin' a bit of trouble, Ang?" Bon asked.

"Not here," he answered over his shoulder.

"No," Bon agreed. "Not there."

"Step aside, Scott," Phil said edging his way to the ladder. An arm reached up like a barrier, Phil barely keeping his sandwich together as he knocked it out of the way. A piece of cheese landed on Bon's hand.

"Gross, you little slob!" Bon laughed throwing the speck on Phil. He brushed it off. "Smells good, that a chicken sandwich, Phil?"

"You already had your fill."

"Gone?" Bon's slight frown turned into a light laugh. "That's right, I got hungry. Well, if Angus is busy pickin' his grin an' Phil's gettin' his fill, I guess I'll be on my way."

"Hey, why don't you jus' fuck off, Scott?" Phil asked. Bon stopped in his tracks.

"I'm tryin' to," he said.

"I meant for the day. Leave us to clean an' go find a chick in a bar."

"It ain't my call, Philip. Mal's been gripin' at all of us, if I could, I'd be gone right now. 'Stead I'm stuck here with you." Angus swallowed the lettuce he freed and joined in the conversation. Bon nodded toward the attic. "Why don't you take your tea party upstairs an' join the Union."

"Knock it off, Bon." Angus said shoving a glaring Phil towards the stairs. "Get along all day jus' to knock each other's teeth out later, that'll do it. Shit." Picking up the napkin he dropped, the two made their way up the stairs while Bon walked down the hall for a bathroom. "The both a ya'? Are real buggers."

"Me no worse than him," Phil stated reaching the top. He gave Angus a hand when it was his turn. "I'm not lookin' for a fight, he sticks it in me."

"You're both just as mean and as nasty as the other. Do no favors for no one."

"I gave you a sandwich," Phil lightly smiled. Angus waved the remaining meal in his hand.

"One sloppy, easy on the eyes but poor on the tongue sandwich." With a laugh they made their way to Malcolm and Cliff, the floor wet from their mops.

"Eh, eh, eh, back up a bit," Malcolm said running his mop over the floor again. "Messin' it up."

"Sor-ry, Ma'am, we were just passin' through," Phil said giving Malcolm a slight bow. Angus grinned and followed him.

"Where's your uniform, Mal?" he asked. Malcolm shoved him away and wacked Cliff with the mop when he laughed.

The two returned to their spots around the boxes, Phil on the floor with Angus standing beside him. Angus reached into his back pocket, then patting it afterward. The Ouija board was picked up and placed on Phil's lap. The wood chipped more under his wandering fingers, eventually searching for the missing piece. "Ain't there one of those little Poker chips you place on these things? To get 'em to work."

"Poker chips," Angus repeated. "I thought it was one of those tiddlywinks things."

"Not even close," Phil said revealing something from the box the board had come in. A small wooden disk lay in his palm, looking much newer than the rest of the game. "Surprised it wasn't lost."

"Mmm...looks more like a potato chip than a Poker chip," Angus observed. "I mean, I jus' could still be hungry after my sandwich, but."

I'll hide this damn thing before Bon gets back, maybe he'll forget the whole thing."

"Forget what, Phil?" Both men turned their heads to see Bon leaning on the wall behind them with his arms crossed. "Certainly can't forget you tellin' me to fuck off. Instead of face me like the chicken you deny."

"Here guys," Angus said stepping between them. "I'm usually against any idea of causing myself bodily harm. But if it gets you twats to make nice I'll let you gang up on me again." Neither one listening to the idea ever even looked at Angus. Rather, they balled their fists.

"Ang tells me you don't believe in that shit either," Phil challenged.

"Ang told you," Bon laughed.

"So either there are two logical men in this room, or one man, and one very gutless chicken." Bon smiled and walked up to the box on the floor beside Phil, the board tossed inside. He picked it up.

"Leave it up to the dead to figure which one it is," he said. "Mal, are we ready?"

A mop was set against the wall, knocked over, then picked back up again. Malcolm walked up to the group wiping the sweat from his hands. "Ready? For what?"

"We're playin' Ouija, 'member?"

"You really want to play with that thing? Do you know what you're doin', do you have everything it needs?"

"You want to check?" Bon smiled at Malcolm who rolled his eyes. "Let's see, we've got the board, we've got the talkin' piece, we've got the skeptics...I'd say we're all set."

"This place is hardly clean," Malcolm said. He eyed the stash of boxes and artifacts next to Phil. The drummer shrugged and pushed them aside.

"I'll get 'em later."

"Cliff? You comin'?" Malcolm asked taking his place on the floor. Angus sat beside him a little too close. "Back up, Ang," he mumbled pushing him away. "Cliff?"

"What?" he whined from the back of the attic.

"You wanna summon some spirits with us?" Cliff walked forward, seeing his band in a circle on the floor. Bon had the board in the middle of it, reaching into his pocket for the cards he was given. "Come on, you can have a card, take it." Malcolm gave him the second card he possessed, the one with the head wrap.

"Why do I need this?" he asked taking a spot.

"Dunno, there's five cards, five of us. I know Ang kept Miss Goldilocks in his pocket to smooch later so I figured...you wanted a woman too."

"Pick a card, Rudd, any card," Bon said holding two out to him. Phil just stared at him, Bon waving them in his hand with a spiteful grin. They were pulled away whenever Phil made a grab, and eventually both were ripped from the older man's hand. "Hey! Greedy bugger, ain't ya'?"

"Piss off," Phil mumbled. Taking the woman in red, the dragon card was thrown back at Bon, landing on the board. "Take your spirit animal back."

"My sheila! You're takin' that one?"

"Why shouldn't I? You offered both." Sticking his tongue out like the dragon, the card was picked up and settled back in his pocket.

"True, mate. Alright, we dimmin' the lights on this thing?"

"No, then we can't see," Malcolm protested. Angus stood up and turned them off anyway, leaving the men in near pitch. The hole in the floor gave them one source of light, illuminating the board just enough to make out the markings. Angus returned to his spot with a smug look. "Thank you, Ang."

"Where does this start?" The small piece was picked up and placed on the letters. Nothing happened.

"Mister Ghost?" Bon laughed. "We doin' this right, can you hear us?"

"Maybe you start at hello," Malcolm said moving it over. Each of the men looked around themselves, nothing new or out of the ordinary. "Or maybe we're jus' real bad at this..."

"Here, let me see this thing," Bon said picking the board up. "There's no instructions anywhere?"

"The makers never guessed anyone so incompetent like us would use it," Cliff said.

"We ain't incompetent, the makers were jus' lazy, we'll figure it out." Bon set the board back and put a hand to his chin. "Ah. Everyone's gotta do it."

"Why?" Malcolm asked.

"Saw it on T.V. You know, everyone puts their hand on the thingie an' then it talks to us."

"Hands on the thingie," Phil scoffed. "That's a game I've jus' been dyin' to play."

"Whatchya been doin' in your room all this week?" Bon snapped at him. "C'mon, let's try it. Unless you're chicken." Phil glared at him for an answer. If Bon wasn't such a chicken himself, surely he'd try as well. "Everyone, come on."

Bon placed his hand first on the planchette, Cliff hesitantly following. Malcolm nudged Angus and they both placed their fingers on it. Phil, after shaking his head and uncrossing his arms, joined them. It was crowded, with five grown hands atop one small piece of wood, some fingers moving aside to make room. Eyes glancing around them, nothing seemed different about the atmosphere. Phil scoffed again. "What are we doin'. I knew it! Jus' a bunch of-"

When the planchette began to move, not one more word was uttered. It would shift one way, then scoot another, making its path toward the letters in the middle of the board. Angus leaned forward in order to keep his hand on the wandering wood, gritting his teeth at the stretch. Bon's face was the only calm one, looking at each of his mates' reactions. The first letter was H, and Cliff mouthed something, keeping track of the spelling. When their hands hovered on the O, ending the response, Malcolm spoke.

"Bon?" The singer turned to him. "You're not allowed to watch T.V. anymore," he said.

"Not when I'm home," Angus agreed.

"Relax, the two of you."

"Relax?" Cliff asked, his voice cracking. "How can we relax? That thing," he pointed at it with his free hand. "just talked to us!"

"You're not scared, are you?" Bon taunted. Phil frowned, having enough of the teasing.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he asked. Bon whipped his head around. Phil sat across him, glaring. "You moved it, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." Phil took his hand from the piece and pointed it at him.

"You moved it, you made it spell somethin' out, it was-"

"I moved it the same way everyone else moved it, it was not me!" His smile disappeared. "The pick was already on 'hello', it didn't have to go an' spell it out for us!"

"I think I would have preferred if it didn't," Angus muttered.

"Bon, give it up! We both know there's no such thing, so stop fuckin' around an'-" His words were once again cut off by the board, not by spelling, but by shaking. The Ouija board rattled under their hands, each man horrified.

"Look what you done!" Bon yelled.

"Wasn't me!"

"Oh, it's my fault then! Jus' like I moved the chip?" Malcolm pressed his hand down on the board to keep the rattling under control. It grew louder, Bon's voice straining to talk above it. "You've upset the damn thing, I haven't done-"

"Shut up!" Malcolm grabbed Phil's hand beside him and slammed it on the chip, the board settling instantly. Panting, the men stared at the object in front of them, everyone whiter than sheets. "Thank you," he breathed.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Angus muttered.

"Not now, Ang, keep it in," Malcolm said. "I can't imagine your breakfast would please the spirits if this is how it reacts to these knuckleheads."

"It ain't my fault," Phil muttered.

"It ain't mine either!"

"It ain't anybody's!" Cliff said, looking at them on either side of him. "Or maybe it's both of you for arguin' like you are." He straightened up. "What if we phoned a sleeping ghost, hmm?"

"A sleeping ghost?" Bon asked.

"Yeah, what if we woke him up, and now you're screamin' in his ear? Or one that has a hangover? I know I wouldn't want that kind of noise if I were him. Right, Mal?"

"Oi, don't bring me into this," he whined.

"Come on, Mal. Would you want someone arguin' if you had a hangover?" Cliff raised his eyebrows as Malcolm sighed.

"No. No I wouldn't."

"See?"

"Knock it off everyone, I'm gettin' a cramp from sittin' here an' we've heard one word outta this guy," Bon said.

"That shaking was just the wind?" Angus asked.

"Come on, let's spell something for it, it thinks we're lazy. How 'bout..." Bon tapped his free hand to his jeans as he thought what possible question they could ask. Phil sighed and rolled his eyes in impatience. Angus jumped when Bon snapped his fingers. "Easy. Boy or girl."

"Do ghosts have genders?" Malcolm asked.

"We might just have a lady ghost on our hands, lads, an' I for one, think we ought to present ourselves as gentlemen."

"T's alright, I've got a lady in my pocket," Angus whimpered.

Bon rolled his eyes and guided the planchette over to the A, then the R, E, held it still for a moment, then the Y, and so on until they had finished the question. Waiting a minute more, Phil shook his head. "I'm tellin' you, this is ridic-"

Bon grinned when the first letter the chip moved on was a G.

Giving Phil a look before it was even complete, Phil frowned, then returned the smirk when he read the full response. G-E-N-D-E-R-N-A.

"What the hell does that mean?" Angus frowned, eyeing Cliff who was mouthing the letters again.

"Gender...N A...not applicable?" he guess.

"Damn, what a vocabulary it's got," Malcolm muttered.

"Even takes the easy way out, don't it?" Bon said, still disappointed by the answer. "Fuckin' acronyms...well, Rudd, now you know for sure I'm not the one who's movin' it, I would have made it a lady."

"Then which one of you lot is movin' it?" Phil eyed every man in the attic, each one shaking his head. "Come on."

"You think we made it shake like that?" Malcolm asked. "It's been a while since I've conjured up a spirit, I admit." Angus laughed to himself. "But that's never happened on purpose."

"Mal, you're on fire."

"Thanks, Cliff."

"No, Mal, you're on fire!" Angus scooted away from his brother, letting go of the Ouija board. All of them did, backing away from Malcolm who just noticed a trail of smoke coming from his jeans pocket. He patted it a few times before taking the stupid risk of reaching inside it. He pulled a card out, the same one he'd been holding since Phil found it. "Christ, where do you keep your cigarettes?"

"It's this fuckin' thing!" He threw it away from him, blowing his burning hand. The card kept its flame as it landed on the board, all the men now standing as far away from it as the attic allowed them. Angus pushed Malcolm out of his way to hide behind Bon. The fire didn't spread like it normally would on such objects, instead, the bent up card fixed its creases and the flames disappeared on their own. Malcolm continued to blow on his hand and checked his pocket. There was no hole where the fire had been, but it was hot to the touch. Angus checked his own pocket for the card and pulled it out, throwing it on the board in front of him. One by one the other men did the same, the Ouija board covered in their cards. "Hey, how come none of you caught fire?"

"Didn't need to, we learned from you," Phil said.

"You alright, Mal?" Angus asked.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the sore spots on his leg and hand. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"I'll be damned if that board really isn't possessed," Cliff said pointing at it. "Watch. We keep playing with it, one of us will die."

"My bet's on Angus," Bon said.

"What?"

"No one is gonna die tonight, we got a show tomorrow. If one of us dies and doesn't show up, spirit or no spirit, they're gonna answer to me," Malcolm said still rubbing his hand. "I dunno, maybe the ghost wanted his cards back."

"Maybe I wasn't done with mine," Angus protested.

"That's why you're goin' first," Bon said with a raised eyebrow.

"Am not!"

"Shut it, remember what happened last time there was an argument?" Angus and Bon looked away from each other, both of them rather pissed off. Phil stepped out from his spot in the corner and cleared his throat.

"He's-he's right," he stuttered, gesturing to Malcolm. Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "We-we shouldn't fight."

"Who's believin' now, Phil, eh?" Bon said rounding in on him. "This givin' you the creeps?"

"I know Malcolm's sudden ignition scared the shit outta you," Phil said, taking another step forward. "I'm not afraid to admit, I thought he was gonna set the whole place on fire."

"I was scared for your safety, Mal."

"Shut up, Angus," Malcolm muttered, waving him off.

"I think we ought to keep goin'," Phil continued. "Maybe-this, this-ghost or whatever it is, is tryin' to tell us somethin'. Maybe-we found this stuff for a reason."

"Oh now who's believing!"

"Will you do it or not?" Phil questioned, staring up at Bon. Bon placed his hands in his pockets as if to check for another card he mistakenly hid away, and that could catch on fire. "Hey, if your hair catches we're all runnin'."

"Very funny," Bon said wrinkling his nose. He shrugged and sat down again. "Alright, alright, I'm game. Not scared," he said eyeing Phil. "but game. If these ghosts wanna talk, let them talk. I wanna hear."

"I don't," Angus said.

"Get over here an' sit down, the lot of ya'," Bon said. The band took their seats again around the board. With caution and a touch of paranoia, the cards were swept aside and the planchette was picked up again. "Alright." Bon placed it back on the A and hands were on it again. "Anyone got a question?"

"Ask what it wants with us," Cliff suggested. "Why the hell it's in our house, who this stuff belongs to, who died in the first place, what is it gonna-"

"Shit, mate, we'll be on hold all night with a list like yours," Bon said. Cliff glared but Bon ignored him. "Anyone have one, sensible question?"

"Those were sensible!"

"Anyone?"

"I have one." Attention turned to Angus, who straightened himself up with a smile that could irk a man. He looked at each of his mates, that smile lingering. Malcolm stared at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"What's your damn question?"

"What its name is."

"Oh, was that suspense worth it!" Bon said earning a dirty look from the youngest man. "Well, that might answer one of Cliff's questions too...oh well, let's give it a shot."

The chip was moved under the men's hands, traveling across the board hitting every letter in the question, only slowing down to keep track of what letter came next. Ending on E, they waited, each with a hint of question on his face. A few minutes passed before they got a response. Everyone looked at Phil, waiting for him to make a comment to be interrupted. "What?" he asked.

"The skeptic is silent?" Bon said smirking a bit.

"No one is a skeptic now, Bon, but...if it only responds to denial..."

"I'll do it!" Angus said getting his smile back. "This is a load of shit!"

Right then the chip began to act. Instead of moving right away, it heated up, raising a bit of fear that it would set on fire itself. When it didn't, Cliff began matching the letters together as it moved across the board. "C-A-S-E T-H-O-A-S."

"Case Thoas?" Bon asked. Cliff shrugged.

"Ya' know, Bon's not that common of a name either," he defended.

"I think you missed a few letters, Cliff," Malcolm said. "I caught a Y after the E."

"Oh, Casey," Cliff said nodding. "So it's Casey Thoas." Bon whistled.

"Even the name could go both ways."

"I caught an M," Angus said. "Don't remember where, but I saw one."

"Mthoas...no. Tmhoas...no. Thmoas..."

"For God's sake, Cliff, Thomas!" Malcolm yelled. "Casey Thomas!"

"Oh."

"Well, nice to meet you, Casey Thomas," Bon said, doing well to hide the shake in his tone. "How are you?"

"Ask if it knows Danny Thomas," Phil said. "Maybe this Casey can sing too."

"Hey, we won't have to pay for the radio," Bon joked. "You think it'll sing through the wood?"

"What does a radio do?"

"It has a speaker, Rudd, you know how radios work?"

"It was just a joke, Scott, calm your tits."

"You wish you had some!"

"You wish you could see some just once!"

"Shit!" The board was abandoned by the men, who nearly fell over from the fire that ignited the cards again. Malcolm inspected himself and his brother to make sure they weren't hurt. "Jesus..."

Orange flames expanded to cover the board on the floor, nothing burning up. A small trail of smoke flew to the ceiling, disappearing in the darkness. It dwindled, then settled on one card; the Harlequin.

"That damn card is possessed!" Bon said. Phil glanced at him, Bon's eyes solely on the inflamed card. When it died down, the seats weren't taken again. "Fuckin' fuck..."

Angus chanced a few steps toward the cards, stretching his neck to see the tops. He picked them up, dropping them from the heat. "They're hot!"

"Whadja expect, a warm waffle?" Malcolm asked. He picked the scattered cards up, using the tips of his fingers. The mask's eye sockets were glowing red now, a shiver running down his spine. He set them back on the board. "I have a question," he said, his voice soft. "What does it want with these cards?"

"That's a good question," Angus said.

A wordless mutual agreement jumped from man to man. Cliff shifted from foot to foot, Bon keeping his eyes and finger directed at the cards, Phil's head down. "Well," Malcolm said, raising his voice slightly. "We can't ask it unless we sit down."

"No," Bon said after a while. "No I suppose we can't."

"Alright then." Slowly, each one returned to his spot around the board. The cards were brushed aside again with a respectful, 'sorry', and the planchette was touched again, hands a bit shaky this time, fingers twitching. Malcolm sighed, looking around the circle. "Ready?"

Cliff shook his head. "Not a bit."

"No," Malcolm agreed. "Let's do it."

Again, the men led the piece of wood across the board, starting at W and ending on S. Waiting for a response didn't happen as the response came right away. Cliff repeated the letters out loud, making sure not to miss any. "M...A...L..."

"C..." Phil joined in.

"O...L..." Bon, Malcolm and Angus began reading too.

"M." The planchette paused, Malcolm looking slightly paler than before.

"Malcolm," Angus whispered.

"Malcolm?" Cliff repeated, frowning.

"I know what it fuckin' said!" Malcolm yelled.

"What does this thing want with my brother?" Angus asked frowning as well, but not out of confusion.

"I dunno, ask it!" Phil said.

"The fuck do you want with Malcolm?" Malcolm glared at Angus' abruptness, fearing it might not like being yelled at. The pointer moved again, the men spelling the word out.

"S...P...I...R...I...T..."

"Spirit?" Cliff asked after a minute. Bon cast his eyes down.

"The cards!"

Phil picked the card saying 'The Spirit' up, dropping it on the board. The men waited, nothing happening. "Oh, that explains it."

"What's the bottom say?" Cliff asked. It was difficult to see in the dark, and Cliff squinted to read the writing.

"Unseen forces watch over you..." Bon answered for them. He turned to Malcolm whose color returned some. "Hey, Mal, you got a friend in your closet?"

"No! I dunno, it-what the hell is it talkin' about, why'd my name come up?"

"Maybe this card has somethin' to do with you."

"Maybe the cards have something to do with all five of us," Cliff suggested. "Count yourself lucky, Mal, that's not a bad card."

"What's a good one?" While Malcolm's color returned, the crack in his voice never left. "None of these are good, they're possessed!"

"Don't let Casey hear you say that, these cards might be his," Phil said.

"Hers," Bon said. Phil rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a damn about these cards, what does my brother have to do with anything?" The pointer jerked to one side of the board, Angus almost losing his grasp. The letters appeared too quick to catch them, but a lucky few were remembered.

"I got a C and an F," Phil said.

"I got a W," Bon said.

"Two Ls," Angus said. Cliff turned as white as Malcolm had.

"M-m-me?" he stuttered.

"Hope you get a good card, Cliff," Malcolm mocked, beyond thankful that the focus was off of him. "Maybe that mask is yours."

Before he could respond, the pointer moved again, this time pausing at D. Bon looked at the pile. "Any of them start with D?" he asked.

"This one," Phil said holding up the dragon card.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Well that blonde was mine, and the ghost gave it to my brother. Boo hoo," Angus huffed. The dragon card was set on top of the spirit, and Bon read it aloud.

"Strength and wisdom...you?" Cliff frowned.

"Why not me?"

"Goin' on like Porky Pig over there, you are! You're more chicken than Rudd!"

"I am not a chicken! Come on, ghost, give Bon a card, put him front and center!" Phil yelled at the board.

"This is total bullshit, Mal doesn't have anyone watchin' over him," Cliff said.

"An' if I do, they're not doin' their job, I caught on fire!" Malcolm agreed. "An' if Cliff's more scared than any of us, who's to say this board or whatever isn't playin' some shit with us?"

"Should we stop?" Angus asked biting his lip. Cliff opened his mouth to speak when the board did it for him.

"Angus..." Bon said staring at the pointer. "Look." Angus followed the planchette as it shifted across the board, hitting A. There were some mixed feelings in his heart when it spelled out his name, and spelled it correctly.

"Damn, this demon had the perfect chance..." Malcolm mumbled, though Angus could tell he didn't mean it, and only said it to make himself feel better. Swiftly the wooden piece moved to the Q, and again stayed there. "Q, Phil?"

"This one."

"Bon?" He read it.

"Love and prosperity. Huh. Don't be so quick to complain, Ang. You've got the best one yet."

"Why's it the old one though?" Angus asked with a hint of disappointment. "What if my next girlfriend is old?"

"You would have picked her, I hope," Malcolm said. "Hey Phil, you got any more of those?"

Phil put his lighter away and stuck the cigarette in his mouth. "No, it's my last one."

"NO one is watchin' over me!"

"Ah, quiet, I need it more than you." Bon couldn't help the slight smirk.

"A little chilly, Phil? A little...ch-ch-chicken?" Phil scowled and placed the cigarette on the board, assuming it wouldn't burn, as it showed this afternoon. It was still so dark in the little attic that it could have been evening for all they knew.

Ignoring the remark, Phil stared at the board, waiting for its next statement. The planchette remained still for a minute or two, then began to heat up again. It hardly moved at all, and they only just realized when the Q became visible again, and the P was covered. Phil swallowed.

"Your turn, Phil. What's your card?" Cliff asked. Bon swallowed too, as the planchette moved over to the H, and began to spell out-

"Hindrance?" Angus asked. "What's that?"

"It's what you are on weekends," Malcolm said craning his neck to see the card Phil shakily held up. "Fate has...blocked this path...for you."

"Well, at least Phil's not gonna die," Cliff said turning his head to stretch. "Looks like Bon over here's got the puppet."

"It's a mask!" Bon said, suddenly standing up. His fingers left the planchette. "And it's not mine! This is bullshit!"

"What's that card say, Phil?"

"It says-it says true feelings are unmasked," he answered. Bon stepped away from them, running a hand through his hair. All the men stared at him. "You got somethin' to say to us, Bon?"

"No," he mumbled. Phil held a hand to his ear. "No! No, what-what the hell does your card mean?"

"I doubt any of our cards mean anything," Malcolm said thinking it over. "None of them make any sense-'

"But you believe there's someone there," Angus said. Malcolm frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You know someone's talkin' to us, none of us are movin' the chip, none of us are settin' each other on fire."

"I think I know what Bon's got up his ass," Phil said removing his hand from the board. Giving each other a glance, Cliff, Malcolm and Angus removed their hands and watched the drummer stand up and walk towards Bon, who backed up. "I don't think he's been truthful with us."

"Fuck off, Phil," Bon said pushing him aside. Phil grabbed his arm and fought against his struggling. "Fuck off!"

"Leavin' so soon? Excitement just started, an' you're up an' goin'?" Bon shook his head, reaching his free hand up to brush the hair out of his face. "Come on, sit back down, the spirit still has to call your name. What's the matter, Bon, you afraid or somethin'? It's all just bullshit, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Bon muttered. "But you admit it's a tad unsettling to see your name come up on a Ouija board."

"What are you goin' on about, you left before your name could show up. I'd say your card's pretty accurate, eh Mal?"

Malcolm shifted uneasily in his spot and kept his eyes glued to the mess in the middle of the circle. It was assumed as long as everyone kept their hands off of the board and its piece, that it wouldn't do anything, but turning away from it made him nervous. "Leave-leave me out of this, Phil, leave Bon to his own devices, he doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want to-"

"Why shouldn't he want to?" Phil interrupted. "He's been lookin' forward to it all day!"

"Knock it off, Phil," Cliff warned.

"Oh, so, I've been the bad guy all along, have I? It's all been because of me, this happened, I've been getting on Bon's nerves all day, talkin' him into messin' around with the dead-"

"Phil-"

"-I've been tauntin' him all day, callin' him the chicken an' what not, right?" Bon stepped back again keeping Phil at bay, once in a while eyeing the board, which still hadn't moved. He'd have been more grateful if the slightly shorter man left him alone. Bon palmed the wall behind him when Phil pushed him. "Ain't that right, Bon?"

"Everyone here knows it's bullshit, let's pack it up an' leave, Mal's got more work for us, don't he?" Bon asked sparing a glance at Malcolm who began to stand.

"Save yourself, Mal, we're not goin' till Bon here admits he's afraid."

"We're all a little afraid, Phil, none of us really expected an answer," Cliff said. "You don't really think Bon believed all this would happen, or made it happen." Phil didn't take his eyes away while Bon held his gaze at anything other than the other man. The corner of Phil's mouth turned upwards.

"I want Mr. Scott here to answer for himself."

Bon kept his lips shut, turning his face away from any wandering eyes. "I'm not afraid," he finally mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I'm not. Afraid."

"Then by all means, come over here an' join us, I think good ol' Casey Thomas wants to see you." Phil turned his head to see the planchette still stationary on the E. "I think he's itchin' to move, we all are."

"Then leave."

"We will, but it's your turn." Bon pulled away from Phil as he was grabbed and dragged back over to the circle, practically shoved onto the floor. He fell over into Angus who kindly shrugged him off, giving him a worried look.

"You don't have to do this," Angus whispered. Bon closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I've got to, Rudd won't take a hint."

"Just tell him you're a bit scared, I would have had I had the option." Bon cupped his hands together and brought his knees to his chest. "I've talked to him, I've told him you don't believe in all this...Bon, it's okay to admit you're afraid."

"Angus? Now's not the time." Angus was interrupted by Phil taking his place around the circle, adjusting the planchette under his fingers with a smirk Bon would have loved to smack off. He rolled his eyes at Phil's look. "You jus' gonna sit there like an idiot?"

"Jus' waiting for the king of 'em to take control," Phil answered. Bon scoffed and reached for the planchette, shoving Phil's hand away, and placing his own on. Keeping his own fingers far from his opponent's, Phil looked at Malcolm who joined, Angus who hesitated beforehand, and Cliff who sighed and gave in.

"I don't like this, Phil."

"Bon does."

"He never said that-"

"And what have you heard, Angus?" Phil snapped at him. "Bon tellin' on me?"

"Jus' tellin' him what I told you." With a glare, Angus finally placed his hovering hand on the chip, making a way for his own fingers. Making sure all participation was included, Phil looked down at the planchette and waited. Nothing was happening, no movement nor heat. He was almost disappointed, though he didn't let it show. Bon opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them again, the room was so dark. They must have been up there for hours by now. Rather than growing colder with the coming evening it grew hotter, and Bon used his free hand to unzip his jacket.

"A bit disappointing, Mister Thomas," Phil called into the stifling air. "Can I call ya' Casey?"

"Enough of this, Phil, let's just leave it alone," Bon said.

"You never left me alone, you've never left me alone!"

"What-"

"Ever since I came into this band I've been the picking of all your jokes-"

"I pick on everyone, it's what I do!" Bon raised his eyebrows at Phil's sudden outburst, or what he called a childish complaint. He shrugged. "Everyone in this room, anyway."

"It's true, Phil," Angus spoke up. "I'm second after you, I told ya'."

"It's all fun an' games with you, but in case Bon hasn't noticed, I ain't laughin'." Bon raised his hands off the board and tilted his head, some bravery returning.

"Well, excuse me for hurting little Philip's feelin's, I didn't realize he didn't like to be friends with the rest of us." Phil rolled his eyes. "Ya' know, the drummer before you wasn't so sensitive, he didn't care if I teased him or not, in fact, he teased me right back! An' earned a smack or two for goin' too far! If I've gone too far, why not give me a smack?"

"I'm not gonna do that-"

"Why not?" Bon took a step forward, leering down at Phil. "Chicken?"

"Shut up. Or else admit you're afraid of this whole summoning business." Bon shrugged.

"So what if I am?"

"It'd be music to my ears, to all our ears if we knew there was one thing the great Bon Scott was afraid of."

"Why are you so focused on this?"

"'Cause for once, it wouldn't be me bein' the weak one." Bon narrowed his eyes. Angus considered removing his fingers, but kept them glued when the piece began to move. He nudged Malcolm, who watched it, keeping an eye on Phil beside him. Cliff watched the letters, once again mouthing what was being spelled. Phil didn't notice. "For once I'm not the one gettin' called a baby."

"No one here's ever called you a baby, but you're sure as hell actin' like one."

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not afraid of some stupid little board game we found-'

"You admitted yourself the card was possessed, why can't you say you're afraid?"

"Cards don't set on fire for no reason, unless Mal had a match in his pocket-or, lit the board with his breath-"

"Don't be fuckin' stupid, Bon," Phil said, glaring hard now. He raised his hands away from the board, still not noticing the movement of the planchette. Cliff took his eyes away for a second and regretted it as he missed a couple letters. "Tell me. Why do you have it out for me so much? At least give me that."

Bon kicked the floor with the heel of his shoe. "You ever hear the youngest gets picked on?"

Angus raised his hand, Malcolm shoving it down. "I'm not quite the youngest," Phil said eyeing Angus who lightly pushed Malcolm.

"You're the newest."

"So that's reason to kick my balls every day?"

"Stand up, Phil, since you give me the option."

"I'd kick yours first, if you had them to begin with." Bon raised a finger.

"Watch your mouth, if anyone's takin' anything too far, it's you," he said, locking eyes with Phil. His hands were sweating despite having removed his jacket and his heart was racing despite standing still. It was like Phil was breaking into him with a pickax. He began to regret ever pulling the piece of ceiling down, ever grabbing the dangling cord.

"Admit it, Bon." Phil's glare didn't falter, his heart was beating fast too, from adrenaline. He couldn't remember the last time he was given a chance to stick up for himself against the lead singer, and he wanted to savor it, pausing after each word. "You're. Scared."

"You want me to say it, Rudd?" Bon dropped his jacket to the floor and thumbed at himself. "You want me to say it so your underwear can untie the knot around your balls? Alright, I'm afraid!"

Bon's fear, and everyone else's, grew that second as the planchette began to move at a rapid pace across the board, only stopping at three bold letters: B-O-N. The card with the mask on it shook on the board, but didn't catch on fire. A corner rose into the air shakily, a fine crease forming. The eyes were glowing as they had before, a deep scarlet. Angus, Malcolm, and Cliff immediately removed their hands from the wandering chip and let it go crazy, circling those three letters. Phil stood up, backing away from the board once again, his look matching everyone else's.

"Everyone, get out!" Malcolm yelled. Phil turned his head to see Malcolm pushing himself off the floor, and grabbing Angus' arm. He looked down at the board again to see his cigarette on the wood, and the wood on fire. He didn't notice Cliff run beside him, or Bon grabbing him along with Malcolm, who turned around to make sure he didn't lose anyone.

The ladder shook under their weight, their patience steadily decreasing as they descended one at a time. Angus ran straight out of the house, Cliff pushing Malcolm outside with him. Bon grabbed the door then turned around when he saw Phil stop at the kitchen sink, where Cliff had a bowl filling up with water under the faucet. "You're never gonna put it out with that," he told him, looking around for something else.

"It's the best thing we've got, it wasn't big yet. Here, can you take your snares outta here, they're cloggin' the place up." Phil stayed where he was, eyes darting around. "Hurry!" Handling the stack of snares by himself proved to be tricky, and Bon ran away from the door to help shove them in his arms.

"Alright, come on," he said running ahead to hold the door open. Phil stepped outside, the cold air hitting his face harder than he expected, the sky dark. The drums covered his view of the sidewalk and he took the smallest steps one could take in a hurry, tossing them by a nearby bush. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angus sitting on the curb staring at his hand while Malcolm looked at it over his shoulder. Malcolm saw him run back toward the house but couldn't stop him. "The fuck are you doin'?" Bon called behind Phil.

The doorknob cracked against the wall when he pushed it open. Cliff was gone from the kitchen, the faucet still dripping. Looking around he saw nothing of use, and sighed in frustration when he had to move a bunch of clothes and shoes off the couch to clear it off. Unless he wanted someone's socks on fire he couldn't use any of it. He ran to the second floor toward the bedrooms and pushed the doors open, scanning for anything to help. Angus and Malcolm's rooms were both pigsties and his own room was too organized to rummage through and find something. Bon's room wasn't attractive, but Phil opened the door wide enough to catch a glimpse of a half empty water bottle sitting on the dresser. He grabbed it but it was knocked out of his hands. "The hell are you doin'?"

"Savin' our asses, come on!"

"Cliff doesn't have much-"

"That bottle'll do more harm than good, now get out of here!" Bon pulled a struggling Phil out of his room and hardly let him go when they reached the stairs, the two almost falling the rest of the way. Before they passed the front door Cliff came down the stairs holding the bowl, panting. He set it down in the kitchen.

"Man, I hate fires..."

"Bad?" Bon asked.

Cliff shrugged. "Better than it looked. Went out fine. Hadn't started to spread yet when I got there so..." He nodded, still catching his breath. "Mal an' Ang alright?"

"Outside," Bon said. Phil stood there for a second before leaving the house, finding where the brothers were on the curb. Whether the fire, adrenaline, or the fight prior was the cause, the night air was much needed. He swallowed some, then joined the Youngs.

"Fire's out," Phil muttered.

"Everyone okay?"

"Yeah."

"Angus found somethin', think you lot should see it."

"What?"

"Angus!" Angus ran up to his brother adjusting his zipper earning a look from him.

"What?" Malcolm just looked at him. "What?"

"Show Phil what you got," he muttered shaking his head. Angus frowned in disgust. "The paper!"

"Oh! Oh, yeah." A piece of paper from his back pocket lay in his hand, crumpled and stained. "It's like a newspaper or somethin'. Here, you can-read it." Phil took it slowly, turning it right side up. "The ink's blurred a bit..."

He could still make out a few words here and there. Owner, 1920, Thomas, and death. The darkness didn't aid him at all. Phil handed it back. "What is it?"

"I read it under the streetlight over there. It said a man named Casey Thomas was the town's enemy but the outcast's savior," Angus explained. "He's from the twenties, he's long dead."

"Mayor probably had him tipped off," Malcolm said. "He was really into things like rituals, fortunes-"

"Ouija boards," Angus added.

"-an' stuff like that. That shit in the attic? Belonged to him." Phil's eyes didn't leave the paper. Angus read over it again, eyes scanning the bottom for anything he missed.

"He was the owner of this house, an' kept to himself a lot," Angus mumbled. "Neighbors said he was weird, an' mostly did business in the shady parts of town. Huh, Mal, he probably went in the bushes too-"

"Where did you find that?" Phil interrupted. Angus looked up at him.

"On the floor, in the attic," he said. Found it when you an' Bon were goin' at it...didn't have time to read it..." His eyes left Phil's and instead looked over his shoulder. Phil turned around and saw Cliff and Bon approaching them. Phil looked away from Bon, who did the same.

"Lads, Ang picked somethin' up while we were up there shittin' ourselves, look." Malcolm showed Cliff and Bon the paper, Bon holding it up higher and squinting. "Says the guy who lived here before us owned that stuff in the attic, an' he died, name of Thomas."

"Casey Thomas," Cliff said.

"'Zactly."

"Where was it?" Bon asked not handing it back. Angus reached to grab it but Bon held it away.

"On the floor of the attic, I was bored of watchin' all the arguin' and picked up some light readin'. Come on, Bon, it's mine!"

Bon laughed, his eyes sparkling even in the dark. He looked at Phil who looked down at his shoes, hands in his pockets. His smile disappeared, forgetting a jumping Angus was still in front of him. "Better get back in the house," Phil said. "The fire's out, we can-can all go to bed." He stepped away from the group and stopped. "Cliff, get my things."

"What things-" Phil was gone before he could hear him. Bon watched him sulk away, barely hearing Cliff ask Malcolm what the hell Phil was talking about. His arm dropped, Angus grabbing the piece of paper and sticking his tongue out in victory. Bon ignored him and walked to the house himself, Angus following behind. After Malcolm left Cliff to pick up Phil's snares that he threw in the shrubs, Cliff muttered to himself about his mates leaving their shit in the yard like dogs. He muttered even more when his hand brushed a leaf and he pulled it back, wet.

 

It was cold in the morning, a week later. About five o' clock the clouds came to stay over the little neighborhood keeping everyone who had woken up inside their houses. Everyone except, one man. One man who sat outside his house on the steps, staring at the street with a cigarette between his lips. He knew he shouldn't, but he was too cold to care, he'd care later.

He heard the door open and shut behind him and didn't bother to turn around. He leaned forward when a boot pushed his back gently, then left. He still didn't turn around, instead took another drag. "You shouldn't be doin' that," the guest said.

"Says who."

"Says a man with a brain. Says a doctor..." Phil walked down the steps and sat beside Bon. "Says me."

"Thanks for lookin' out for me but I already have a mum," Bon answered.

"Cold and smoke don't mix well with your condition."

"Thank you, again, Doctor Rudze-Ruddy-" Bon sighed. "Rudzev-"

"Rudzevecuis," Phil pronounced for him. "Rudd, is just fine. Actually, Phil is a lot better."

"No doctor?"

"No doctor." Bon feigned a smile. It disappeared shortly after. "Just a friend."

For the first time in a while Bon looked at him. All morning he'd been ignoring the freezing sting in his fingers but it seemed to increase as he stared at the other man. "You sure about that?"

"I'm not gonna be your enemy, Bon," Phil said. "As pissed off as I get with you-with any of you, I won't stand against you.' Bon turned his head again. Phil rubbed his hands together. "The band'd fall apart."

"The Youngsters would kick us out, despite both of them knowing our fame would decrease."

"Doesn't matter, that's not somethin' they tolerate. Besides, I'm tired."

"It's five thirty in the morning," Bon said.

"I meant of fighting. I just-wanna sit an' play drums, drink a bit an' live life. Fighting with a mate isn't livin', it's just goin' each day with a constant headache."

"I'm a headache, am I?" Bon laughed.

"Took a vote inside. It was either that or a bullet wound an' while it was tempting, we decided you weren't that bad," Phil said. Bon shoved him laughing harder. "You're not that bad..."

"What changed your mind?"

"Hmm?"

"Last week you wanted nothin' to do with me, took us forever to schedule for the gig. What brings you out here at five thirty five in the a of m?" Bon asked stressing random words. Phil sighed and looked at his bluing hands.

"Why'd you drag me out of the house last week?" Bon blinked.

"You wanted to barbecue your ass back there?"

"I was nowhere near the fire," Phil reminded him. Bon placed the cigarette between his teeth again, reaching into his pocket to pull out his gloves. He spoke softly, keeping the smoke in his mouth and concentrated on dressing his shaking hands.

"You would have been had you used that water bottle," he said. Phil stared at Bon's gloves with envy.

"In school they said water puts fires out."

"Yeah, water does," Bon said removing the cigarette. "Vodka doesn't."

Phil'e eyes widened. "You had vodka in that thing?" Bon nodded and adjusted the glove around his wrist. "When the hell did you get vodka?"

"What, you wanted some?"

"Bon..."

"I got some from a friend the other night, I was outta Jack an' he said he'd pick somethin' up for me if I called up another friend for him-a lady friend-to accompany." His brow furrowed and he wrinkled his nose. "I would have finished it if he gave me a good bottle."

"Why'd you disguise it?"

"So none of you'd drink it," he answered. "Because disgusting or not, it's still mine."

"Angus would have drank from a water bottle." Bon grinned.

"Yeah...forgot about him."

"Speak of the devil..." Phil pointed down the sidewalk where a little man in an oversized coat came strolling along with a whistle on his lips. The skin under his eyes was dark, his nose a cherry red. Walking closer to the house he saw Bon and Phil on the steps, both with a smirk on their faces.

"You gentlemen waitin' for me?" Angus asked.

"Jus' gettin' home, eh?" Bon asked earning a laugh from Angus. "Been hours since we've seen you, there's no other reason why you'd be smilin' at such an hour."

"Had a wonderful time," Angus said walking closer to the steps.

"How long have you been seein' this girl?" Phil asked in turn. Angus' nose blended in with the rest of his face and he buried it in his scarf. "Greta, is it?"

"Three days." Angus grinned. "You'd love her, she's a real lady."

"Unlike us?" Bon asked pretending to be offended. "Are we not good enough for you Angie boy?"

"Sorry, lads, I like my girl jus' fine, she doesn't have to fake the look like you two. You put the curlers in your hair this morning, Bon?" Angus asked jumping back when Bon stuck his foot out to kick him. "Love the lipstick, Phil, a pig couldn't wear it better."

"Shut up, ya' bugger. Hey, you'd better get inside, or Mal's gonna be-"

"Where have you been?" All three men looked up to see Cliff in a bathrobe and slippers, tying the cord and fixing his messy hair. Angus thumbed at himself. "I've been keeping Malcolm busy all night so he wouldn't notice you were gone because someone didn't leave a note!"

Angus pointed at Cliff and faced Bon and Phil. "See? That's how a real woman looks like."

"Quiet, Ang, Malcolm knows you're liable to get kidnapped, you could fit in a bicycle basket like that dog in the film. Only you're not clever enough to get out like he did," Cliff said crossing his arms.

"I was fine, I'm fine," Angus said gripping the rail on the steps and regretting it as the cold metal seeped through his palm. He was too amused to think about letting go, however. "Where is Mal anyway, in your robe with you?"

"Very funny." Angus grinned making sure all his teeth were visible earning a sigh from Cliff. "You all come inside it's freezing out here."

"Finishin' up a smoke, Cliff, I'll be in in a minute," Bon said taking a few more drags.

"The house is warmer than a fag, Bon."

"Keepin' the house clean, Cliff."

The men heard footsteps coming down the stairs and Cliff stood back when the front door was pulled open wider. Malcolm stood there with a head messier than Cliff's and the familiar crust of sleep under his eyes, or the lack thereof. "There's a draft goin' in my bedroom an' I'd appreciate it if the front door wasn't wide open for easy access."

"Close your bedroom door, then," Angus said, then covered his mouth as he thought maybe he shouldn't have drawn attention to himself. Malcolm glared at him.

"Hello, Angus. You're up early."

"He had a good night's sleep," Phil snickered.

"Not in his own bed, I assume?" It was a minute before Angus shook his head with another blush. Malcolm imitated the head movement. "Wastin' your beanbag, Ang."

"It's alright, I can bring her over anytime."

"Why's there a party goin' on out here anyway? The milkman call a conference?"

"Just a band of mates havin' a good time, right?" The question was general, but Bon noticed Phil look at him out of the corner of his eye. Angus nodded wordlessly while Cliff shrugged and ran a hand through his knotted hair. Bon stayed silent. He smoked instead.

"I'm goin' back to bed, wake me up when Bonanza comes on," Cliff said yawning and turning away from the front door. It closed behind Malcolm who stumbled forward when it hit him. He turned and kicked it.

"Real different temperature out here than last week, eh?" Bon said changing the subject.

"How do you mean?" Malcolm mumbled rubbing his sore toe.

"Forget the fire, Mal?"

"Forget it? I'm the one who saw it!" He set his foot down on the dirty welcome mat. "Hey uh, I haven't told you fellas this but..." Malcolm frowned, thinking how to word his question. "There were only us five in the room, right? Ya' know, apart from Casey Junior?"

"Yeah. Why, you feel another spirit showin' up?"

"No, I..." Malcolm ran a hand over his head. "I didn't tell you this, I sorta forgot about it. But...I dunno, it's like I was pushed over or somethin'...wasn't you, right, Ang?"

"Wish it was," Angus grinned.

"I thought it was an' I turned to smack you when I saw Phil's cig burnin' up. Wouldn't have seen it otherwise...I dunno. Jus' thought I should tell you."

Angus yawned a very big and rather unattractive yawn. Bon didn't bother keeping his laugh to himself. "That's all very nice an' swell, Mal, but I'll have to hear your story at noon, when I'm a bit less out of it. An' my ass is yearnin' for a warm bed." Angus excused himself past Bon and Phil and shoved Malcolm over with his shoulder earning a long awaited smack for several reasons. The door closed sending a rush of warm air on the two men still sitting on the steps. Bon looked at his cigarette. It still had enough to keep him frozen to the concrete.

"You really ought to toss it," Phil said. Bon turned and saw him standing. "Not to tell you what to do or nothin'. Jus' thought if we're gonna be friends..." He shrugged. "Should look out for you."

"You're too kind, Philip."

"Anytime, Ronald. Hey, anyone ever call you Ronald McDonald?"

"No, an' if you do I'll give you a smile fit for the clown you really are, understand?" Phil raised his hands in surrender.

"No problem. I know when to call it quits." Bon smiled.

"Guess we both needed a little shit stirrin', yeah?" Phil returned the look.

"Sure." He turned to head back inside, his hand stinging as the doorknob touched every nerve in his palm and enclosed fingers. "Hey." Bon turned around.

"Yeah."

"That vodka...ya' know, turnin' the house into an easy bake oven...that-wasn't the only reason you saved me...was it?"

"That reason not good enough?"

"It's only half..." Bon didn't answer. "Come on, Bon. You know what they say about maskin' your feelings."

Bon shivered, but not from the cold. The words of the card flashed before his eyes, the fear he felt that night coursed through his bloodstream like a poison. Admitting it took a weight off his shoulders he didn't realize he was carrying, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to do it again. "Believe it or not Rudd..." He sighed. "I don't hate you."

"Get the paper boy here before his shift, we can still change the headlines," Phil joked. Bon scoffed. "So you don't hate me. So?"

"You know, you're not the first one to have his back broken by yellin' an' disagreein' all the time," Bon said. "I'm tired of it too. Have been for a while but, as you know I'm not keen on lettin' the world know I'm a soft guy."

"Who're you tryin' to impress, the band? None of us give a shit, we're all a little soft on the inside. We're all afraid of somethin', an' to be honest..." Phil looked around as if expecting the paper boy to actually show up and overhear. "Losin' the band is one of mine." Bon smiled.

"I think you an' I share the same boat on that one," he said.

"Well, every boat needs two rowers. What do ya' say we keep the boat goin' the right direction, hmm?" Bon stared at the hand Phil stuck out for him to shake. Before taking it, he took his cigarette and crushed it in his fingers, and placed it under his boot.

"Friends," Bon said shaking Phil's hand. "An' listen. When things get too serious, or the band gets too uptight, don't shy away from pushin' me into the water, or lettin' me smack you over the head with my oar."

"No worries, as long as there's no leaks in the boat. We'll gang up on Angus like old times. You comin' in?"

"I'll be in in a minute, I need the fresh air." Phil nodded and left Bon to sit on the steps.

It was quiet. A bird here and there would sing while one or two cars drove down the street. His gloves made him itch and he ended up taking them off and stuffing them back in his pocket. He felt at peace for the first time that week, the tranquility of the morning being only one factor. The events of that afternoon were unsettling, the fire being the icing on the cake. But something about the words that were uttered, or the actions that followed, was only something those men could understand. They shared many things in the past: women, beers, hotel rooms, and laughs above all. But an adventure like this one wasn't likely to happen again. Bon was okay with that, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything, and instead savored the peace in his mind resulting from it.

After seven and a half minutes he stood up and stretched, trying pointlessly to hold in a yawn. A distant rumbling noise buried the song of the birds. It came closer up the street and Bon craned his neck to see. The garbage truck rolled to the curb in front of their house, picking up the cans they set out the night before, and rolling to the next house. Clanging of all kinds of objects rang throughout the back of the truck and Bon smiled. None of them would ever worry about a visitor taking over their attic again. Bon looked to the sky as a warm sunshine hit his face, the star coming out from behind the trees to warm up the morning. "Well," he said sticking his hand in his pocket, one on the doorknob, and scraping his shoe against the step to free the cigarette. "I'll be damned."


	8. "Fuckin' Disgustin'!"

"I swear, it's the whole truth."

"Would I lie about something like this? Where's Malcolm, he'll tell you about it."

"He was there, I saw him!"

"Fine. I'll start from the beginning..."

 

"Where are you taking me?" I nearly tripped following after my brother through that crowded mall, I'll tell you. Dodging this way and that, squeezing by groups of people, I had never seen it that busy before. I don't remember the day it was, nor the month. Or the time for that matter...But, that doesn't matter for this story. All I know was that it happened earlier this year, a few months ago. My brother had taken me to a mall to meet someone there, without telling me who of course. "Who is it?" I had asked.

"You'll see, he should be around here somewhere..." My brother stood on his toes, being slightly on the shorter side. I stood on mine as well, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious person we were visiting. Too many accidents could have happened if we started walking again, the whole walkway covered with footprints, and the shoes that made them. And talk about stuffy! You know when you're in a small building, or a large one I suppose and you start smelling body odor because there's simply too many in one space? It gets all hot and uncomfortable? You don't know the half of it!

We waited until the hoard cleared up a bit, one man standing a few feet away. Man, and I thought my brother was short. I'd never seen a man like this before. He turned his head, and-I kid you not-it was Malcolm. 

You know, Malcolm Young? Of course you know him, he's from one of the most famous rock and roll bands of all time. And here he was, standing five feet away from us, in a little town like ours. What he was doing there, I'll never know. I never had the courage to ask. He turned his head and saw us, and walked over to us. I looked at my brother with a very unattractive gaping mouth. What, so now my brother is all buddy buddy with Malcolm Young? And he didn't TELL ME?

So we're standing there, Malcolm now three feet from us, two...one...all the while my brother is muttering, almost to himself..."Hey, he's from AC/DC..." I looked to him, thinking to myself, reeeeally? I hadn't noticed! 

"That's Malcolm," I corrected, thinking it awfully rude of people to not even remember his name. Knowing my brother meant well, and that the name just slipped his mind for two seconds, I let it go. "His name...is Malcolm."

Well he finally got to where we were standing, he and my brother taking to each other quite quick. I guess it's a...brotherly thing. Their conversation was lost to me by the incoming crowd, and we quickly took to walking again. Malcolm walked on my left side, my brother keeping on my right. I looked at both of them, wondering when on Earth had they suddenly become friends? I tried to ask, but no words came out of my mouth. I was speechless! And we were walking rather quickly allowing little time for conversation. 

 

"What happened next? Uh...well, see it's interesting because I have a little trouble remembering the next part. It all kind of happened in a blur, you see..."

 

"That's fuckin' disgustin'!" I turned my head every which way, but I couldn't find those two anywhere. My brother had disappeared, and I could faintly hear Malcolm's voice over the buzz of the mall. People everywhere but none of them the little guitarist. Guess that's what happens when you're only 5'3. Whatever it was disturbing him must have been pretty bad because that's the only thing he could think of to describe it. "That's fuckin' disgustin'!"

 

"Then...I kid you not, everything went dark. No people, no shouting, nothing. I was in a small space, very small, very dark. I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes but...nothing. Finally I realized I could sit up a bit, there was a little bit of light above me..."

 

I sat up, the light hitting my face hard. I was in some trunk of a car. I'm not kidding, the trunk of a car! It's like I was bagged and kidnapped or something! Honest! Anyway, I sit up, right? And there's these two people on the other side of the trunk, hanging out in the backseat. And I really do mean "hanging out". 

Neither of them were dressed, see. One was a giggly female, the other a prideful young man. It appeared they had just finished a round of unbridled passion and I was asleep the whole time. Thank God for that.

So I wake up to these two at the end of their date, in the trunk of some random car...that's when I see that this car ain't so random. That guy? He was Malcolm's brother! Can you believe it? Just when I thought my day couldn't get stranger. First Malcolm, now Angus. But, as exciting as this sounds, meeting Angus like this was not what I had in mind. 

Ducking my head to save all three of us the embarrassment, I just listen to their "pillow" talk. Looking back on it, I don't remember much that was said. I guess it's pretty hard to listen when your second favorite guitarist is lounging in the backseat of a car with a lady friend in the most private not-so-private way. 

I peeked my head over again, and get a closer look. I don't mean to spy, I really don't. But the things I saw...oh, you'll never believe it. They had a blanket over them, that much is true. Angus looks like he normally does, ya' know, the curly hair, the sugar-eating grin. But the other one...Angus, your girl, woof!

She looked like a teenager first of all. Now I'm not one to judge on things like that, but her parents aren't gonna like her out in the woods like...this. What if she has school tomorrow? Second, this obviously can't be your car, so...was she the one driving you two out on your date? Did she open your door for you, or pull out your chair too?

Now the good news, she was very pretty. Blonde hair, nice face, rather short, probably the nicest, sweetest girl on the planet. Angus, you would have loved her. Now the bad news...

Her chest was hairier than yours. 

 

"I guess that's what Malcolm meant when he said, 'That's fuckin' disgustin'!'"

"Can I go now?"

"Yeah, that's the end of the story."

"Alright, I'm going. I'll call you guys up again for the sequel."


	9. Morning Groceries

Except for the man with the only shopping trolley with the squeaky wheel and the woman skipping next to him holding a scribbled-on piece of paper, the store was completely empty. It was the first of November, the band making a not so quick visit to London before starting the next leg of the tour. Even without the cold weather keeping everyone home, Monday mornings were not the peak of the town's popularity. The wheel scraped around the corner, Angus considering grabbing a different cart. But as bread, cornflakes, heads of broccoli, and a carton of eggs were already taking up much of its space, he decided against transporting them. Hannah had ceased skipping, eyes glued to the paper in her hand. 

"What's next?" he sighed rubbing his eyes. Did he mention it was seven on a Monday morning?

"Milk," she stated, double-checking the cart to see if it hadn't already been grabbed. Angus backed up the cart.

"I saw it a few aisles down, I'll get it," he said turning the cart as slowly as he could so the wheel wouldn't worsen his already throbbing head. Fuckin' hell it was fun spending his Sunday night in the bar. He wouldn't have drunk anything if the television showing a football game hadn't been fuzzy or if the music they played was worth listening to. But when your only company is the lead singer of your rock and roll band, what else do you expect to happen?

Hannah, as per usual, stayed at home nursing her fourth cuppa. The first three were gone without an issue, but the last one seemed to have sensed her worry at eleven at night and Angus still hadn't come home yet. Finally, around the stroke of midnight, the hotel door opened with a hardly shivering and slightly off-balance Angus McKinnon standing behind it. He bent over to pick up the keys he dropped on the floor when he was practically tackled to the ground in a hug. Maneuvering his way in the room was difficult with his girlfriend standing on his feet, arms squeezing what little life he had left in him. Accepting her hug with a hiccup, he excused himself to the bathroom to rid himself of the whiskey Bon ordered, cursing the man all the while.

Every milk bottle looked exactly the same. Why was it taking so long to pick one? Maybe it was his headache. Maybe it was his lost precious hours of sleep. Or maybe it was the song playing on the intercom. Not any worse than the rubbish played at the bar's jukebox last night, he chose to ignore it. Grabbing the closest one only finding it had been opened slightly by some prankster he put it back grabbing the second closest. This one had an invisible leak getting his hand soaking wet. He sighed, stepping away from the cart and grabbing one near the back, placing it with the rest of the food. The song kept playing. Shouldn't it have ended about three minutes ago?

Returning to the nut aisle, he found Hannah not to be where he left her. Knowing she wouldn't have a crowd of people to carry her off, he didn't worry too much. Snagging a few chocolate bars for himself and her, he wheeled his way down to the fruits where the smell took him to some tropical island at two in the afternoon, where he could sleep in and get room service from a pleasantly dressed-he stopped his thought before Hannah could read his mind and give him a piece of hers. She wasn't the jealous type, not at all. But she'd rather he not spend his time drooling all over their groceries. 

An island...if only he were so lucky.

Taking a little of this and a little of that (mostly bananas and peaches), he made his way to the alcohol portion of the store. Just seeing the various labels soured his mood even more, and he turned around. Though it was nothing compared to the bottle-o back home. He had gone with Malcolm a few times, though despite all the newest additions and absurd flavors they sold he always ended up buying the same beer he'd been buying for God knows how many years now. 

Without thinking he found his way back to the nut aisle and grabbed a few more candy bars. Perhaps he'd have more of an appetite later. Having no list to go off of, he wandered this way and that trying to remember what he had written on it the previous morning. Soft drinks he thought, and maybe...flour? Or sugar...he couldn't be sure. Better stock up on both. 

Hannah still hadn't been spotted as he made his way from one end of the store to the other. And no other customers had shown up either. He thought he caught someone standing at the checkout, but it was just the cashier deciding to show up for work after all with a magazine and chewing gum. 

The wheel scratched against a metal tile in the coffee section. Whether or not it was on the list, he'd be sure to buy about five canisters and plenty of tea bags. Can never have enough of the good stuff. 

Another song began to play on the intercom, this one not much of an improvement from the last one. Angus vaguely remembered hearing it in his living room once, playing from an album Hannah had bought. Not that he wasn't a fan, but he always lovingly reassured her she had no need to share the album with him despite her insistence. Balancing his coffee and tea on the loaf of bread and egg carton, he pushed the cart toward the magazine rack, seeing the typical tabloids and Cosmo. A few fashion magazines caught his eye, and he grabbed some knowing Hannah would be interested. Not that the model on the front didn't interest him, quite the contrary. But women's fashion wasn't his exact top pick in bathroom reading material.

Giving the cashier a chance to finish their own magazine and stick of gum, he refrained from standing at the checkout just yet. Hannah still had their list, and he'd hate to get comfortable at the hotel only to realize they forgot something. But where the devil was she? Making one last stop at the nut aisle (and grabbing a few more candies for the road), he looked around, thinking for sure he'd find her there. When he didn't, he began to get a little concerned.

The store wasn't big. Not many goods apart from food and ingredients were sold there, except a few clearance rack dresses hanging in a window. It being the only area of the shop Angus hadn't paid a visit to, he edged his way over. And, as luck would have it, there Hannah was...wearing the most...how would he put it? Lovely, no-stunning dress he'd ever seen her in, while she and the dress were spinning around the room to the music, in a much less stunning dance routine. 

It draped over her like a pillowcase, the outfit purposed for a much larger woman. But the morning sun shining through the window hit the sequins just right, giving the red color a sort of ruby slipper appearance. Once in awhile the shoulder fell off and Hannah quickly grabbed it before she spun again. Sneaking a bit closer he could see her lips move, singing silently along to the song. How she failed to notice him standing right there he'd never figure out, and he didn't feel much like trying. Forgetting his headache for a few minutes, he watched her, as the song put it, having the time of her life. For the first time in seven and a half hours, he smiled. 

After one particularly big spin, her black hair bow slipped off her head, landing on the floor by his feet. Seeing him standing there, bending over to pick it up and holding it out to her, her face began to match the dress. "Thank God I found ya', been lookin' nigh on a day!"

She stepped up to greet him and took her bow from his hand, placing it back on her head. "Sorry about that," she admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, forget about it," he dismissed tapping his fingers to the cart. "How long have you been over here?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, pulling the dress off. Angus was sad to see it go, but the size was still much too big on her petite self. "I saw it when you went to go get milk and...oh, what are you smirking for?" He laughed at her sudden rise in volume from his smartassery. 

"Nothin', I'm not smirkin' at nothin', hon. Honest." Total lie. "A lovely little number, ain't it?" he asked referring to the dress. Hannah grabbed the hanger and returned it to its rightful place. 

"I thought so too. But unless I want to help myself to that stash you've collected in one sitting I don't think I'll ever fit into it." Angus sighed, the second round of his headache settling in as the sun came out from behind the tallest building. 

"Hey well, sweetheart, I'd love to dance with ya' but I'm afraid of spinnin' too hard an' slashin' the prices to the negatives on these fancy dresses so..." He zipped up his jacket from the sudden chill as another customer opened the door. "If there's anything on the list I didn't grab we'd better get it now before this place fills up." The one other customer made a beeline for the bathroom, skipping over any possible goods for purchase. Hannah gave Angus a look. 

"Have you gotten bananas?"

"An' peaches."

"Tea?"

"Tea an' coffee by the bottle of Bon's drink."

"Milk?" she asked with a little grin.

"Very funny," he muttered. "Oh, an'...here, I got you these," Angus said pulling out the magazines he collected. Hannah's eyes lit up, sparkling more than any dress she could have tried on. 

"You didn't have to!"

"Eh, if it gets me some peace an' quiet for a few minutes this afternoon, I think I can spare a few bucks." He laughed as he dodged the light swat given to him with the magazines. Hannah looked over at the cart again, double-checking everything. 

"Did you get the flour?" she asked unable to locate it in the trolley. 

"Ah-no, slipped me mind. C'mon, we'll get it together." Hannah took his arm and leaned on his shoulder while he pushed the cart back to the food. Flour and sugar were on the list, Angus making sure he grabbed both. A pack of soft drink bottles was placed on the crate at the bottom of the cart, the wheel screeching against the floor while they both slowly pushed it, careful not to spill anything. "Guess it's really too late to change it, eh?"

Finally done with their shopping trip (and giggling to themselves when the customer returned from the bathroom with toilet paper on his shoe), they each grabbed two bags and made the short walk to the hotel. The lobby had been covered in fliers for a party taking place on the fourth floor, right where the couple stayed. Angus, having a real party for a band, thought maybe a good nap would make a better afternoon. 

Taking a good three minutes to find which pocket Angus put his key in, they stumbled into the room and put the bags on the counter. Angus, who was exhausted since last week, took to the couch and collapsed, closing his eyes. Putting the dairy away and sneaking a few chocolate bars in her pocket, Hannah followed Angus and collapsed on top of him. He accepted her request and pulled her in for a hug, resting his face against her hair. The blinds shut, the door locked, the heating kicking on, they relaxed in the welcome silence, Angus feeling himself doze off...

A knock on the door startled him. He almost said a very rude word before he realized they were knocking next door, sighing in relief instead. Before he could even think about sleeping again there came another knock next door, the door constantly opening and shutting. He finally opened his eyes at the sound of music, the loud kind, getting its volume turned up. He frowned, brushing some of Hannah's hair away from his mouth. Realizing they failed to pay attention to the room number on those fliers, he sat still and listened. In the room right next door to them was a very familiar song playing on the record player...Angus' headache returned as Hannah giggled to herself. 

"Ah, Christ!"


End file.
